


Betrothed, Bothered and Bewildered

by dreadwolftakeme



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Arranged Marriage, Extramarital Affairs, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Hints of Dorian Pavus/Cullen Rutherford, M/M, Platonic Soulmates, Slightly inappropriate friendships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-10
Updated: 2016-03-13
Packaged: 2018-04-20 03:35:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 58
Words: 173,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4771943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreadwolftakeme/pseuds/dreadwolftakeme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a Thedas with no breach - and thus no Inquisition to run off to - Dorian is forced to submit to his familial duties. His father finally gets his way and arranges him a bride - one Evelyn Trevelyan of Ostwick. Naturally he's less than delighted but not all is as it seems...</p><p>(Please note - this is not a full blown Cullrian romance fic. There is flirting/fooling around/oodles of UST/a bit of eventual bed-hopping between Cullen and Dorian but the primary romantic pairings here are Cullen/f!Trev and Dorian/m!Trev.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> __
> 
>  
> 
> _Hi folks. This is the first thing I've written in a very, very long time so if it's a bit clunky (to use Bull's words), please bear with me: I'm finding my feet._
> 
>  
> 
> _Characters belong to Bioware, naturally - I own nothing here. I just enjoy making them suffer. ^_^_
> 
>  
> 
> _And we open with smut... because reasons..._

 

“Ahh! Carter!”

Dorian threw back his head, back bowing, fingers clawing at the rough tavern linens. His body was thrumming with white hot pleasure, climax so close he could barely breathe. 

“Oh Dorian,” Carter purred, releasing him from his mouth to take him in hand. “Truly, you make the most delicious little sounds.”

As if to prove his point, the two fingers that were still thrusting mercilessly into Dorian’s body curled, nudging his sweet spot, and the Tevinter mage cursed loudly. 

“Yes,” his lover chucked darkly. “Just like that. Though I think perhaps I’d prefer to hear you scream again…” 

Dorian hissed as that wicked mouth descended upon him again, cheeks hollowed, tongue flicking over the sensitive tip. The fingers inside him twisted and then came the relentless assault on his prostate, a constant pressure that had him writhing in torturous bliss, crying out to the heavens. It was that sneaky free hand that truly undid him, however – the free hand that snaked between his thighs, cupping his balls, rubbing them and then, without any warning, tugging gently. The combined pleasure shattered him and Dorian came with a scream to the Maker, a raw, primal sound that he couldn’t have tempered if he wanted to. He could feel Carter smirking around him as he swallowed down every last drop he had to offer and couldn’t even find it in himself to be annoyed. 

It took him several long moments before he could so much as think straight again. When he opened his eyes, Carter was lounging on the pillow next to him, fully dressed, his emerald eyes mirroring his wicked smile. Truly, he looked every inch a god to Dorian, his long, dark hair artfully tousled about his face, lips plump and sinfully swollen from his ministrations. 

“So… how was that for a goodbye kiss?” he grinned and Dorian just about had the presence of mind to swat him. 

“You are a bad, bad man,” the Tevinter mumbled. 

“You love it,” laughed Carter and he kissed Dorian briefly on the lips before slipping off the bed. Their wineglasses, untouched for hours, sat on the small table in the corner. Dorian watched as his lover drained one, eyes fixated on the movement of his throat before travelling down his body. Not for the first time that weekend, he had to marvel at his good fortune. It was not often he met such gorgeously handsome men in the Circle library and less often still that he managed to coax them into a two day romp in a nearby tavern room. Carter was witty, charming and incredibly well endowed, as evidenced by the obscene bulge that was tenting the front of his breeches. 

“Are you sure I can’t take care of that for you?” Dorian asked salaciously, propping himself up on an elbow and eyeing his lover’s straining crotch with renewed interest. Carter merely smirked and shook his head. 

“As much as I’d love nothing more than to have you writhing on my cock again,” he purred, “I’ll be late for my boat.” 

“So you say,” Dorian sighed. “Must you go back to Kirkwall already? Such a shithole…”

“Sadly, yes. I have some family business to attend to. However,” and he paused, perching on the edge of the mattress again, “I do come back this was way often…”

“Well, do feel free to seek me out, if you’ve a mind. I’d very much like to do this again.”

Carter smiled – a breath-taking thing that made Dorian want to ravish him all over again – and cupped the Tevinter’s cheek in his hand. 

“As would I, dearest Dorian,” he uttered, “Most delectable mage in all Tevinter.” 

“Flatterer,” Dorian murmured, and he tried to ignore the way his heart fluttered in his chest. “I bet you say that to all the girls.” 

A tiny grin curved Carter’s lips, making his eyes glitter alluringly. He leaned in for another kiss and Dorian was only too happy to oblige, tilting his head and moaning softly under Carter’s expert touch. Maker, if they hadn’t been fucking all day, he’d be embarrassingly hard again already. 

“Alright,” Carter sighed, pulling away and regarding the other man through half-lidded eyes. “I really have to go. The room’s paid up until tomorrow so stay as long as you like.”

“I might just do that,” Dorian smirked. “It wouldn’t do well to head out smelling like a brothel after an orgy after all.” 

“Speak for yourself,” the Free-Marcher purred, winking. “I quite like the idea of being able to smell you on me all the way across the Nocem Sea.” 

“Filthy barbarian,” sniffed Dorian, though he could not deny that the thought was incredibly arousing. “Away with you then. I like to bathe in peace.” 

Carter just grinned, shaking his head. “Catch you next time, gorgeous,” he smirked and before Dorian could reply, he and his pack had slipped out of the door. The mage slumped back against the headboard, a long, low breath issuing from his lungs. 

He was spent – utterly and blissfully spent. He knew it would be wise to get up, call for a bath and get on his way; after all, he was due back home by the end of the week. Yet he wanted to enjoy this moment for as long as he could. His little jaunts in the capital were becoming increasingly rare, what with his father so determined to throw suitors at him. Maker knew if he’d get the chance for another few weeks. No doubt there would be another one lined up for him when he got home, another smirking, buxom, back-stabbing little viper he couldn’t care less to know. 

Sighing, Dorian eased himself off the bed. His backside ached in the most delicious of ways- though he’d be sore in the saddle later – and he could feel a warm, wet something trickling down his thigh as he crossed the room. He felt thoroughly debauched and he was determined to savour it. Later, he told himself. He would worry about what awaited him in Qarinus later. For now, he had half a bottle of rather decent wine left and a long hot bath to look forward to. 

He rang for a servant and had just about enough time to pull on a pair of breeches before the prompt knock on the door. Dorian bade them enter, knowing full well there was no hiding what he’d been up to. The room wore the heady scent of sex like an Orlesian cologne and his state of dress and mussed up hair did nothing to dispel the obvious. Indeed, the surprisingly attractive lad who attended was flushed pink in an instant, his eyes downcast as he made his way to the tub with buckets of water. Dorian grinned, draining his glass. Perhaps, if he was ever so gentle, he might be able to eke out one last glorious orgasm before reality beckoned once more…


	2. First Impressions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dorian meets his intended.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to clarify, this will not be one of those "Oh, look, Dorian is magically straight!" fics. He is perfect just as he is. ^_^

I

First Impressions

 

 

She repulsed him. That was all he could think as he sat across the banquet table from his suitor, toying with his largely untouched meal.

“Just meet her, Dorian,” his father had commanded him that morning, ‘her’ being the third girl in two months he had tried to set up his son with. “You never know – you might find you like the woman.”

He had thought that very unlikely, unless she was concealing a cock in her smalls, and surprise, surprise, he had been correct.

Oh, she was pretty enough, he supposed: vivid emerald eyes, an hourglass figure, a decent set of tits. She was the youngest child of the Trevelyans of Ostwick, a distantly related noble family who had recently carved themselves a stake in the lyrium business. Naturally, his parents had pounced on such an opportunity – to be a human in Tevinter with connections to the lyrium trade? Plenty of future magisters would kill for such an advantage. He, however, was not one of them and he could not keep the resentment from his face as he glowered at his plate.

“So Evelyn, dear, I understand you were trained in the Ostwick Circle?” His mother smiled sweetly at the girl over the rim of her wine glass. Her eyes, however, remained cold and appraising; she did not think much of Southern Circles.

“That’s correct, my Lady,” Evelyn replied, her voice soft and measured. “It was… quite the experience.”

“Please, dear, call me Aquinea. I hear from the First Enchanter that you were quite the rising star.”

Evelyn, who had thus far been exceptionally quiet, glanced up from her meal, her heart-shaped face registering surprise and confusion.

“You’ve spoken with the First Enchanter?” she asked. “About me?”

His mother laughed, a high-pitched, false little noise that never failed to make Dorian’s skin crawl.

“But of course, dear,” Aquinea replied in honeyed tones. “We take such matters quite seriously here.”

The young Trevelyan merely blinked, looking mildly put out. Her father however, the Bann, was quick to speak in her silence.

“If you’ve spoken to First Enchanter Markus, then you’ll already know that Evelyn is an exceptionally talented mage,” Bann Trevelyan assured them, proudly. “She passed her Harrowing in the shortest time in a hundred years.”

“Father!” the young woman hissed, her eyes wide with embarrassment.

“What? This is no time to be modest, Evie,” the Bann chided affectionately.

“Quite right,” Dorian’s father chimed in, and Dorian shot another long-suffering glare his way, though the man hardly noticed. “You have an enviable gift, young lady. It is a wonder you have not come to the Imperium sooner.”

“You and Dorian will make a wonderful match,” his mother added. “He excelled in his studies too. I was just a pity the other children could not contain their envy… But enough exulting our children! There is still much to discuss. Bann Trevelyan, shall we retire to the salon?”

His mother clicked her fingers and once the servants appeared and began to clear the table. His father ordered more wine to be sent to the salon and both he and the Bann rose and headed out of the dining hall together, their heads bent low in quiet conversation.

“Dorian, perhaps you should show Evelyn around the gardens?” Aquinea suggested, though her tight smile and hard eyes made it quite clear she was leaving him no room for refusal. “The roses are particularly exquisite at this time of year and it will give you two chance to get to know each other a little better.”

Dorian felt he knew Evelyn quite as much as he cared to already but he got to his feet all the same, offering the girl his hand. His stomach lurched when she took it. Surely, they did not expect him marry this woman? He glanced over his shoulder at his mother, imploring her with his eyes. She sighed wearily out of her nose.

"Evelyn, dear, would you excuse us for a minute?" She requested, even as she took him firmly by the arm. "Dorian shall be but a moment."

"Of course," the girl nodded, though she looked somewhat perplexed as his mother all but frog-marched him out into the hallway.

"Mother, you can't possibly be serious about this," Dorian began the moment the door snapped shut behind them.

"We are perfectly serious," his mother replied, rounding on him. "Dorian, you have put this off for far too long. Most men your age are married by now, with at least one heir to their name. You cannot afford to delay!"

"I don't care what most men my age are doing!" Dorian hissed. "This is my life and I have no intention of spending it shackled to some Southern floozy I'm not the slightest bit attracted to."

"What has attraction to do with anything?" Aquinea scoffed. "Once you're married, you can bed anyone who takes your fancy but you need a good match to carry on the family name."

"Fuck the family name-" he began viciously. However, he was cut off mid-sentence by a resounding slap to the face. Dorian stared, astonished. His mother hadn't struck him in years.

"Don't you dare," she breathed. "After everything your father and I have done for you, after everything we've sacrificed, you cannot make this one small concession for the sake of your family? Are you that selfish, Dorian?"

"Selfish?!" Dorian spluttered indignantly.

"Yes, selfish. We've indulged you in your questionable tastes for too long it seems. No more. If your father and I can finalise the alliance with the Trevelyans, you _will_ marry the girl. Or you can leave. It's that simple. I'd like to see how long you last without the family coffers to support you."

"Oh, what do I care for your precious money?"

"You might not care but Tevinter will. You won't last five minutes here without the family influence and well you know it. And then what? You leave? You know what the Southerners do to mages! They'll hunt you down and throw you in one of their dismal little Circles for the rest of your life. Is that what you want?"

Dorian remained silent, his heart sinking like a stone in his chest. His mother sighed again, shaking her head.

"I'm sorry Dorian but this is for your own good. Some day you will see that. Now go and charm the girl whilst your Father and I discuss arrangements with the Bann. If you're smart about this and don't fight us at every corner, we'll be able to secure quite the future for the family."

Dorian open his mouth, some vitriolic barb ready on the tip of his tongue, but thought better of it. It would only serve to irritate his mother and he had already seen how far that would get him. Swallowing hard around the lump in his throat, he gave her his most baleful look before turning his back and returning to the dining hall.

Evelyn was waiting for him dutifully by the window, her auburn curls fluttering in the slight breeze. She glanced up as he entered and her lips twitched as though she’d meant to smile but thought better of it.

“Shall we take a turn around the gardens then?” he asked, in an attempt at sounding upbeat. The girl simply nodded and took the arm he proffered gingerly. She looked pale – or paler than usual, perhaps, beneath her Southern complexion. Dorian could empathise.

They were silent as they walked, which was good; Dorian was certain if he had to open his mouth he’d start screaming. Or vomit. Or possibly both. He’d known for years that this day would come, had been putting it off quite masterfully thus far – “She’s not right woman”, “I’m simply not ready yet” – but it seemed his time had finally run out. His parents were keen for him to settle down and stop ‘carousing’, as they so hilariously called it. They were keener still to cement an alliance with the increasingly influential Trevelyans. He’d seen the glimmer of ambition in his father’s eyes when the Bann had mentioned talks with the Archon. The Ostwick lord was ready to undercut the dwarves and supply to half of the magisterium; there was no way his family would turn down a part of that. It was practically a done deal and little – nothing – Dorian could say would change their minds.

“This is madness,” he whispered, his voice cracking as his panic rose. “Folly. They cannot honestly expect…”

He felt the hand on his arm squeeze softly and he whirled around, pulling free from Evelyn’s grip. She was regarding him with a calm, almost sorrowful expression that he didn’t care to understand. “I can see that you’re not happy about this,” she began, her tone placating. “I’m not exactly thrilled either.”

Dorian merely scoffed. “Oh please,” he snorted, before he could stop himself. “What exactly have _you_ got to lose? This setup is the only reason they let you out of your prison of a Circle. Without my family’s connections, you’d be straight back to Ostwick and straight back to your tower! At least here, you can actually use your Maker-given talents, can actually make something of yourself! I fail to see how you’ve drawn the short straw here.”

The young woman couldn’t have looked more shocked if he’d slapped her. She blinked, looking utterly bewildered at his outburst, her expression morphing to one of supreme irritation.

“Well, someone thinks highly of himself,” she muttered, tartly. “Did it ever occur to you that I might have been happy in my ‘prison of a Circle’? That I might have had plans and ambitions that didn’t involve being dragged from my home and gifted to a complete stranger?”

“My sincerest apologies,” the altus sneered, knowing that his ire was misplaced but finding himself unable to stop. “Do you have some doe-eyed apprentice you’re anxious to get back to? A strapping stable boy, perhaps?”

“No,” Evelyn deadpanned. “Why, do _you_?”

She said it with such utter sincerity, her eyes bright and her cheeks pink with annoyance, that it took him by surprise. Briefly, he thought of his little tryst in Minrathous with Carter a few months back. He wasn’t naïve enough to think that anything would ever have come of it but the thought that it might never happen again – with Carter or with anyone else – was crushing. Dorian blew out a shaky sigh and leaned back against a nearby pillar.

“Forgive me,” he murmured. “My quarrel is not with you.”

Evelyn said nothing, though she continued to regard him with cold indifference. He supposed he deserved that much.

They continued onwards in heavy, uncomfortable silence for several moments, no longer touching, refusing to look at each other. When he did happen to glance her way, he noted her expression had softened. The anger had melted and given way to something much sadder. Had he not been pre-occupied with his own plight, he might have felt sorry for her; as it was, he simply didn’t have room in his head for sympathy.

They were saved the torment of having to spend any more time together by the arrival of their parents. They said nothing of their discussions as they crossed the courtyard to join them but the expressions on his mother and father’s faces did not bode well for him.

“Nice to see you both getting along,” Aquinea said, as they approached. Dorian fixed her with a look that plainly said she must have lost her mind. If she noticed, she didn’t respond.

“Come, Evelyn,” Bann Trevelyan commanded. “There is a shipment I must oversee personally this evening.” He turned to the Magister then, adding, “I shall have a courier bring you those samples right away. I think you’ll pleasantly surprised at the quality, my Lord.”

“I would be most grateful, Bann Trevelyan,” Dorian’s father responded. “I shall leave my lady wife to see you to the door, but rest assured I will be in touch over the coming days.”

Dorian watched with mixed relief and disgust as his parents bid farewell to the Trevelyans. Evelyn did not spare him so much as a backward glance. His mother did as she’d been asked and escorted their guests personally back through the house, though the look of sheer venom she shot her husband made it quite clear her feelings on the matter.

“You’ll pay for that later,” Dorian muttered, sullenly. His father merely gave a wry chuckle.

“I’ve no doubt, my son. But what is new?”

“Please,” the Altus murmured, “tell me you aren’t seriously considering this. Father, I-“

“Hush Dorian,” Halward interrupted him, curtly. “I will not be swayed. There are many details to go over and I shall need to see the worth of this Bann’s produce for myself, but if all is well, it will be done.”

“And that’s it, is it? I’m to be used as a bargaining chip, with no regard to my feelings on the matter?”

All at once, Dorian was seething again. He glowered at his father, though for all it was worth, he might have well have protested to a stone wall. The man was just as cold and considerably less forgiving. He fixed his son with a disbelieving expression, his lips curled in disdain.

“My dear boy,” he sneered. “What have feelings to do with marriage?”


	3. A Reluctant Engagement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evelyn laments her fate and her older brother offers a shoulder to cry on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enter stage left, the second Trevelyan of this tale: Maxwell. 
> 
> Hold on to your panties, ladies and gents, this one's a bit of a heart breaker.

 

II

A Reluctant Engagement

 

 

The decision was finalised within a couple of weeks. Her father swanned into the parlour of their new estate some ten days later, brandishing a scroll and announcing that it was official – she was to be married to the scion of House Pavus.

“Do try to look happy, Evelyn,” he scolded her, when she’d apparently failed to elicit the appropriate degree of elation at the news. “The Pavus boy is a very good match for you, his past proclivities aside. And we need this alliance with his family if we’re ever going to establish ourselves properly in the lyrium trade. You do want to help your family, don’t you?”

She _did_ want to help her family. More importantly, she wanted to keep _him_ safe and she knew better than to doubt her father’s threats. If she wanted him to keep his job – or Maker’s Mercy, his life – she would have to do as she was told.

“There’ll be a betrothal ball with within the next fortnight,” her father went on, not waiting for her to respond. “Your mother and brother are returning from Vyrantium as we speak – they’ll both want to be present. Oh, and I have scheduled a dressmaker to call by this afternoon: we’ll need to begin preparations for your gown immediately.

“Is that really necessary, father?” Evelyn sighed. “I have some perfectly lovely gowns upstairs that will be quite suitable.”

The Bann merely wrinkled his nose.

“Maker’s breath, Evelyn, this is your betrothal we’re speaking of. Of course it’s necessary! I want all of Qarinus to look upon you and envy Dorian Pavus for his good fortune. You never know, if you cause enough of a stir, we might be able to wrangle a match for you sister if we’re lucky.”

“Why not just marry Selene to the Pavus boy?” suggested Evelyn. “She is older than me, she’s the right to a match before I have.”

“I’ve already tried,” Josef sniffed, wearily. “They weren’t interested. This is Tevinter, Evie, they actually _want_ magic in their bloodline. Selene isn’t a mage. And don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing,” he added, his expression growing stern. “You won’t wriggle out of this.”

Evelyn sighed softly to herself, even as her father launched into another spiel about duty to the family. She knew; she knew there was no getting out of this. Her old life in the Free Marches was long gone and she could never go back – not unless she wanted to be branded an apostate and run the risk of being made Tranquil. It was a risk she might be willing to take if she thought there was any chance of rekindling what she’d had with… but no, it was impossible. Bann Josef had never been fond of any of her lovers but the Knight Commander, fraternising with a junior enchanter? He had seen it as the gravest of violations. The only reason he hadn’t personally seen the Commander stripped of his rank was her promise to do as he wished, to marry as he wished. It had hurt her greatly but she would not see him lose everything because of her.

The Bann had finished ranting and had re-directed his attentions to one of the servants, who was hurriedly scribbling down additions to the week’s schedule. Evelyn saw her chance and she slipped out of the window and into the courtyard beyond. The midday sun was beaming down, hot and humid, and she sought refuge under the boughs of a twisted old olive tree. There were plenty of things to dislike about Tevinter – the slavery, the blood magic, the backstabbing and desperate scrambling for power. The oppressive heat merely added insult to injury. Somehow, her brother Maxwell seemed to adore it. He’d been here for months before the main family had moved over. When she’d asked him how he could stand it, he’d merely her the warm weather made for some delicious fashion trends. Typical Maxwell. She found herself smiling as she thought of him. As much as he was a cad at times, she adored her brother. He was the only one of her siblings who’d really kept in touch when she’d been taken off to the Circle. In her darkest days there, his letters had always managed to make her feel that little bit better. Whether or not he would manage to cheer her up now… well, short of smuggling her out of the country, she doubted he _could_ but a friendly face wouldn’t hurt.

He arrived, along with their mother, some four days later. Evelyn watched the carriage pull up in the forecourt from her bedroom window. By the time she’d sprinted downstairs, through the vestibule and out of the front doors, her brother was standing in the late afternoon sun, stretching out his travel weary muscles. He grinned when he saw her and Evie found herself running into his arms, tears streaming down her face.

“Max!” she cried jubilantly. Her arms fastened around his neck and, to both their surprise, she found herself sobbing into his shoulder.

“Hey, what’s all this?” her sibling asked, softly. “I thought you’d be happy to see me after over a year.”

Evelyn managed a watery laugh, poking him roughly in the ribs. “I am happy to see you, you tit,” she sniffed. “I only wish…”

She faltered, glancing over Max’s shoulder at the woman who stood behind him. Lady Miriam Trevelyan looked tired and distinctly sunburnt under her turquoise travelling cloak. She met her daughter’s eyes and had the good grace to look at least a little guilty at the sight of Evelyn’s tears. However, she simply shook her head sadly and proceeded towards the house to greet her husband.

“You wish it were under less shitty circumstances,” Max finished for her quietly. “Yeah, I get it. Come on, let’s go inside and have a drink. We can catch up.”

He slipped his arm around her shoulders and Evelyn let him steer them both inside. Their parents headed into the salon but Evie was pleased when Maxwell took her straight past the open doors and into the library beyond.

“How do you like the estate?” he asked her, conversationally. “I helped Father pick it out  - not that there was much to pick from. There were very few agents willing to sell their fanciest homes to ‘ _southern barbarians’_ , no matter how much money we threw at them.”

“It’s nice enough,” Evie shrugged. “Beats the Circle Tower. Mostly,” she added, as an afterthought. At least the Circle Tower meant she’d been able to see _him_.

Maxwell sighed heavily as he took up a seat in a plush chair by the patio doors. Evelyn did likewise, watching her brother as he called to a passing servant for a bottle of wine. The servant, a male elf in his late teens, bowed and retreated without so much as saying a word.

“They are staff, right?” Max asked, frowning after the elf. “I’ve been happy to embrace this place so far but I draw the line at slavery.”

“They’re getting paid, don’t worry,” Evie assured him. “Father’s not gone completely power mad.”

“Yet,” muttered Max. He leaned back in his chair, meeting his sister’s eyes over steepled fingers. “So, he murmured, “Tell me about your betrothed.”

Evelyn pulled a face. “Eurgh,” she groaned. “What can I say? He’s pretty, that’s for sure, but he damn well knows it too. He’s a brat, Max – a spoiled only child who’s had the world handed to him on a silver platter all his life.”

“Ah, so you two got off to a great start then,” Maxwell chuckled ruefully. His glanced aside as the servant returned with a bottle of wine and two glasses and set about pouring for them. Evie noticed the interest in his eyes, the heated way they roamed up and down the elf’s lithe body. When the servant offered him one of the glasses, Max thanked him, licking his lips and winking almost comically. The poor boy flushed to the tip of his pointed ears, backing out of the room the moment his task was completed. Max grinned. “Cute,” he observed. “Wonder if he’s a virgin?”

Her brother’s one-track mind grated on Evie’s last nerve. “Maker’s breath, Max!” she snapped. “Can you stop thinking with your dick for two minutes?”

Maxwell blinked at her, his expression shocked and slightly wounded. Evie deflated, her ire replaced by squirming, uncomfortable guilt. She’d not seen in him in so long; the last thing she wanted was to be arguing with him.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, and to her chagrin, she could feel the familiar prickle of tears at the corners of her eyes. “You didn’t deserve that. I don’t know why…” Her voice caught in her throat and the tears began to roll down her cheeks before she could stifle them. “This is just such a fucking mess! How can I marry a man I don’t know – a man I can’t stand? How could they possibly ask that of me?”

“Evie…” Max breathed. He set down his wine glass and was beside her in an instant, perching on the arm of her chair and putting his arm around her. Evie leaned into his fraternal embrace. Her tears became sobs and she clutched at Max’s tunic as her body trembled with the force of them.

“I never thought I’d see the day when Circle life seemed like the better option,” she choked. Maxwell stroked her hair, making soft, soothing sounds just as he’d done since they were children.

“Evie, sweetheart,” he sighed. “It might not be so bad. You never know, you may grow to like each other. Gabriel hated Isadora when they were first betrothed, remember, but look at him now. Poor fool’s besotted with her.”

“Gabriel’s the firstborn,” Evelyn reminded him, wiping at her eyes. “Fortune’s favoured. I doubt any of us would ever be that lucky.”

“I wish I could do something, sister,” Max lamented. “If I thought running away was an option-”

Evie’s laugh was a hollow, bitter thing. “You heard father. If I so much as attempt to renege ‘he’ll never work as a Templar again _, one way or another_ ’. He’s a good man, Max… one of the best. If there were more Templars like him, Circle life would be so much better. I won’t be responsible for taking him away from that world. Or… Maker forbid…”

Her stomach clenched at the thought of her former lover dead, because of her, because of what they’d had. It didn’t bear thinking about.

“You don’t think father would really do that, do you?” asked Maxwell, his tone hardly confident. Evie heaved a shaky sigh, curling further into the older man’s warmth.

“I don’t know, Max,” she whispered. “But if you were me, would you take that chance?”

“No,” he admitted. “I wouldn’t. Father’s gotten pretty ruthless since he took over the lyrium mine. I’m not sure what to make of him these days.” Evie felt him shake his head and the feather light pressure of him pressing a kiss to her temple. “Listen,” he began tentatively, “I know this is pretty shitty advice but, for the time being, just try to make the most of being here. I’ll do anything I can to get you out of this, Evie. Until then… take from it what you can, I guess. If there’s one good thing about this place, for you at least, it’s that the mages are pretty damn powerful. You could learn something, maybe something that can help get you out of this mess.”  

“If such a thing exists,” Evelyn sniffed. “But… I suppose you’re right. Sitting around feeling sorry for myself won’t fix this.”

Max attempted a rousing smile. “You never know, this husband of yours might help, if he’s as unhappy with the arrangement as you are.” He picked up Evie’s untouched glass of wine and handed it to her. The redhead drank gratefully, her throat dry from the sudden onslaught of tears.

“Thank you, Max,” she uttered, as he placed the vessel back on the table for her. “Thank you for not lying outright to my face, even if it might have cheered me up.”

Her brother squeezed her gently. “I want you to be happy, baby sister,” he said earnestly. “But I won’t feed you false hope. We will figure something out though, I promise. Now,” he added, his tone taking on a mischievous lilt once more, “can I go and sit down? My arse is going numb here.”

Evie gave a breathy laugh and she shoved at the man sitting on the arm of her chair. He managed to narrowly avoid falling on his rump, favouring his sister with an expression of mock annoyance.

“Rude,” he accused. “And here I am trying to help…” However, he was smirking as he rounded the table and took up residence in his own seat. Evie forced a smile of her own and made a conscious effort to change to subject; they’d had enough unpleasantness for one night.

“So,” she began, “Tell me what you’ve been doing since you got here.”

“Bedding my way across the Imperium naturally,” Max grinned, his green eyes glittering. “Oh, and a touch of business for father, meeting with potential clients and the like. It’s dull as fuck but at least I get to stretch my legs a bit. ”                     

“You’d best be careful, Maxwell Trevelyan,” warned Evie.  “Father will be setting up a match for _you_ at this rate.”

“Not a chance,” Max snorted. “He’s got fuck all on me. But enough of that! It occurs to me that it’s been a year and a half since I lost to you at chess and I’m eager to reclaim my title. How about it, Evie? Fancy a game?”

Evelyn smiled at his obvious but welcome attempt at distraction and she nodded.

“Excellent,” her brother smirked. “I’ll go and find us a set. Or better yet, I’ll call that lovely young man back to do it for us. I’d like to see him on his hands and knees, searching the back of the cupboards…”

“Maker’s breath,” Evie groaned.  


	4. One Last Hurrah

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are getting too real for Dorian. Felix arrives to help distract him.

III

One Last Hurrah

 

 

The speed at which Dorian’s fate was sealed was positively dizzying. He’d found himself in trance-like state of shock at first, hardly daring to hope that it was all little more than a horrible dream. However, as the days piled up and his family’s estate became a hive of activity in preparation for the upcoming nuptials, the cold, hard truth finally sunk in.

He was getting married.

It didn’t matter how many times he said it, how many times he thought it, it still sounded ludicrous to him. He contemplated running but his mother’s words haunted him. Was what waited out there any better? True, he might find the freedom to be his own man, but he also might find a one-way ticket to some miserable little Circle  - and likely be made Tranquil for his efforts, because, in the South, one never could be too careful as far as _evil Tevinter magisters_ were concerned.

The only bright spot on his decidedly bleak horizon was the arrival of his former mentor and his friend. Felix and Gereon rode into Qarinus a few days before the betrothal ball. Dorian had no idea why the two families were insistent upon such an event – posturing and tradition, he could only imagine. It seemed unnecessary, seeing as they planned for their children to be wed by Solis’ wane anyway. Nevertheless, it had been scheduled to occur at the Trevelyans’ shiny new estate on the coastal approach. Dozens of people Dorian could not care less about were scheduled to attend. He was, however, pleased to see that the Alexius’ had accepted the invitation.

“Dorian!”

The look on Felix’s face as he’d stepped out of the carriage to greet him was conflicted, to say the least. His father followed, looking travel-weary but also slightly amused.

“Say it isn’t so,” Gereon murmured, his lips curled at one side. “Who in Thedas have they finally tied you down to, my boy?”

Dorian groaned.

“I’ll tell you all about it but do come inside,” he beseeched them. “I’m rather in need of a drink.”

“I’m sure you are,” Gereon chuckled and he and Felix followed at Dorian’s lead into the house. The pair were staying at the family estate at Dorian’s insistence – “If I’m going to bend over for you and father, the least you can do is acquiesce to this one minute detail” he’d snapped at his mother, when she’d tried to refuse him. He was admittedly surprised she’d given in to his tantrum so easily; she must have been drunk.

Leaving the servants to deal with the luggage, he led his guests through the atrium and into the drawing room. A lone servant set about pouring them wine. Dorian all but drained his first glass in a handful of seconds.

“So,” his former mentor began, eyeing him speculatively, “I suppose congratulations are in order.”

Dorian shot the older man a venomous look.

“He jests, Dorian,” Felix assured him, stilling the curse that had formed on his tongue. Indeed, Gereon was smiling, albeit in a strained sort of way.

“Please don’t,” muttered Dorian. “This is hardly a joking matter.”

The servant, a willowy elven girl whose name he did not know, stepped forward to refill his chalice. Dorian nodded his thanks silently.

“So go on then,” Felix pressed, “who is she? We’ve heard nothing in Minrathous so it must have happened pretty quickly.”

“Her name is Trevelyan,” sighed Dorian. “Evelyn Trevelyan. Her family are nobles and lyrium traders out of Ostwick… they’re looking to expand their clientele, hence the Tevinter alliance.”

“Human lyrium traders?” Gereon frowned over the rim of his goblet. “That is unusual, to say the least. How did they come into such a business?”

“I have no idea, I wasn’t there for the finer points of my parents bartering me away like a prize cow. Suffice to say Mother and Father jumped at the opportunity. We’re to be wed in little over three weeks.”

“Shit,” breathed Felix. It was a sympathetic utterance and Dorian flashed his friend an appreciative smile.

“I don’t understand,” said Gereon, shaking his head. “Dorian, you have diligently avoided marriage thus far. What is different this time?”

Dorian opened his mouth to explain but thought better of it. His former mentor was sympathetic to his plight in many ways – he’d taken him under his wing, after all, where his own father would have rejected him for fear of scandal. However, he knew that, like most magisters, Gereon secretly thought it part of his duty to marry, whether he cared for women or not. It was simply the way things were done.

“It is of no consequence,” he answered, after a beat. “Rest assured, had I a way to refuse, I would do. It seems I’ve finally run out of excuses.”

Gereon Alexius favoured him with a sympathetic look. “Is your father here?” he asked, quietly.

“Somewhere,” Dorian snorted, aware it was unbecoming but hardly caring. “His study, I’d imagine. You won’t change his mind, if that's what you're thinking.”

“Probably not,” the magister agreed. “But I won’t know if I don’t try. If you’ll excuse me for a moment…”

Dorian waved a hand dismissively and his former mentor slipped out of the room, wine still in hand. Felix turned to him, his expression a grimace of pity.

“What’s she like then?” he asked.

“Attractive enough, for a woman,” shrugged Dorian. “You’d probably like her,” he added, with an ironic smirk. “Red hair, green eyes, very buxom.”

“Sounds hot,” Felix grinned, though he quickly sobered. “You’re really going through with this, aren’t you?” he breathed. “Is there nothing…?”

“Not this time, my friend,” Dorian replied sadly. “Time to face the music.”

“Shit,” Felix sighed again. “Well… I guess you can still have some fun on the side, right? It’s not like either of you are obligated to care about each other.”

He could tell Felix was genuinely trying to cheer him up, so he didn’t have the heart to try and explain that that was precisely what he didn’t want. He didn’t want to have to keep his true self locked away, something only to be revealed behind closed doors. He didn’t want to have to spend the rest of his life tethered to some woman he couldn’t stand because of an outdated and over-rated tradition. It was abominable to him. He wanted to be free to pursue whomever he wished and not be judged for it. Apparently, that was simply too much to ask. He sighed.

“Do you know,” he murmured, scrubbing a hand down his face. “I really don’t want to think about this any more.”

Felix’s eyes lit up. “Then don’t think about it,” he said simply. “Screw it, let’s go one better than that: how about we get out of here and find somewhere to get stupidly drunk?”

Dorian managed a half-hearted laugh in spite of himself. “Do you know, that’s the best idea I’ve heard in weeks,” he smirked.

An hour later, the pair of them were sequestered in a plush booth in one of the city’s nicer taverns. It was the middle of the day, so marginally quieter than it might have been otherwise. Dorian was thankful; it meant less people to complain about his drunken behaviour to his father (and they _would_ complain).

He was nursing his forth goblet of wine and already he could feel the pleasant hum of intoxication creeping through his veins. It did wonders in numbing his shattered nerves.

“She fucking hates me, Felix,” he found himself snickering, as he contemplated his blurry reflection in his drink. “I can’t imagine why, I’m perfectly charming.”

Felix glanced up from his own drink – only his second – and flashed Dorian with a smile of genuine amusement. “When you want to be,” he chuckled.

“I admit I was perhaps a little… brusque with her when we first met,” Dorian went on pensively. “But really, can’t she let bygones be bygones?”

“I’m sure she’ll warm to you, Dorian,” murmured Felix. “Providing you give her the chance to.” His friend eyed him meaningfully and Dorian lowered his gaze with shame. It was true, he had hardly been cordial at their first meeting. Something to work on, perhaps? “Anyway,” Felix continued, his tone brightening, “We said we weren’t going to think about all of this, did we not?”

Draining his glass, Dorian reached for the bottle in the middle of the table only to find it empty. Frowning, he signalled to the barkeep for a fresh one.

“We did,” he agreed. “Though I’m afraid I’m finding that more difficult than I’d have hoped.”

“Well then, we need a new subject,” Felix beamed. He glanced up to the bar and his smile twisted into something unusually wicked. “You know, there’s a man up there who’s been watching you since we arrived.”

“Of course there is,” Dorian scoffed. “I’m delightful to look at.” All the same, he glanced surreptitiously up at the bar out of the corner of his eye. There was indeed a man standing there, slender, blonde and rather attractive. His head was bent over a snifter of brandy but his blue eyes kept flickering in the direction of their table. “Oh, it seems you’re right,” the Pavus heir smirked. “Delectable thing he is too.”

“Then invite him over,” Felix suggested, much to Dorian’s surprise. “Or better yet, go over there. He might have a room, if you’re lucky.” And he bounced his eyebrows suggestively, making Dorian laugh in surprised delight.

“My, my, what has come over you, amicus?” he exclaimed. “Do you tire of my company so quickly?”

“Never,” replied Felix earnestly. “I just want to see you have some fun before… you know…”

Dorian nodded, his enjoyment slightly muted for the reminder of what lay ahead. However, he understood what Felix was getting at. Even if he could continue his affairs once he were married, he could never quite do it like this. This may well be his last chance for a spontaneous, drunken fling and, if that was the case, he certainly wasn’t going to pass it up.

“You wouldn’t mind,” he asked, quietly, “if I were to…”

“The wine here’s pretty decent,” shrugged Felix with a grin. “And if you end up at it too long, I’ll just make my own way back. I’m sure I can think up an excuse for your absence.”

“I wouldn’t bother,” Dorian snorted. “Father’ll know exactly what I’m up to regardless. Fasta vass, I want him to know! Let him get it through his thick skull that, married or not, it won’t change who I am.”

The smile that spread over Felix’s face, twinkling in his eyes, was nothing short of approving. “Then what are you waiting for?” he asked. “He’s right there and he hasn’t taken his eyes off you since you turned back around.”

Dorian smirked, draining the rest of his goblet in one go and getting to his feet. He was only a little wobbly and he managed a casual saunter over to the bar without embarrassing himself. The blonde man watched his every move, his eyes agleam like a predator stalking its prey. When Dorian leant on the bar right next to him, his nostrils flared and a deliciously dark smile curved one corner of his lips.

“And here I thought I wasn’t being obvious enough,” the blonde purred and, Maker’s breath, he had a voice like honey. “Can I get you another drink, gorgeous?”

“You can get me much more than that, if you like,” Dorian responded, letting his voice drop to the sultriest tone he could muster. It must have been effective, for the man’s sapphire eyes darkened notably with desire. “How about you start with your name, hm?”

“Septimus,” the blonde responded. “And you, I understand, are Dorian Pavus.”

Dorian grinned wolfishly. “Ah, I see my reputation proceeds me. I should warn you then. The things you’ve heard? All true.”

An attractive flush appeared on Septimus’ cheeks and he licked his lips, sending a spark of hunger straight to Dorian’s belly.

“Now I’m definitely intrigued,” the blonde whispered. “I have a room upstairs. I don’t suppose you’d care to… demonstrate some of these rumours for me?”

“For a dashing thing like you?” Dorian smirked. “I think I might be amenable. Lead the way, darling.”

For a moment, Septimus beamed, truly beamed, as though he couldn’t quite believe his luck. However, he quickly schooled his expression into something decidedly more smoldering. He drained the last of his brandy, abandoning the empty vessel and beckoning to Dorian. “Right this way, then,” he murmured, and he began to lead to the way to a spiral staircase at the back of the tavern.  Dorian shot a glance back at Felix, who grinned and made a shooing motion with his hands.

It was all the encouragement Dorian needed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After much deliberation, I decided for the purpose of this story to omit the darkspawn attack on the Alexius family. I usually like to keep things as canon as possible, even when doing an AU, but this was just one plot bunny too many. So Geron's wife is alive and Felix is as fit as a fiddle. Dorian and his mentor still researched time magic, for the record, but it was more out of an academic curiosity than the last resort of a desperate, heart-broken man. 
> 
> Also, you will notice that I refer to said mentor as Gereon, his first name. It baffles me that he's called Alexius all the way through the game when this is in fact his surname. 
> 
> For anyone unfamiliar:
> 
> Solis = the seventh month in the Thedosian calendar. Known as Solace in the common tongue. 
> 
> Amicus = friend (in Latin; closest I can do to Tevene).


	5. The Betrothal Ball

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The party is in full swing. Cue revelations.

IV

The Betrothal Ball

The ball was, without a doubt, the most disgustingly decadent event Evelyn had ever attended. Her mother and father had pulled out all the stops and embraced Tevinter customs with open arms. The food was exotic, extravagant and, much to her annoyance, delicious, served by a veritable army of servants dressed to impress and allure their guests. The wine was excellent and flowing freely. Musicians filled the air with gentle, hypnotic melodies. Even her dress… Evelyn would never admit it aloud but she had never worn anything so beautiful. It was an intricate gown of gold satin and black lace, hugging her waist and skimming out over her hips. Onyx and gold glittered at her throat and in her hair, shimmering as they caught the light. She looked every bit the Tevinter noble and it was earning her more than a few appraising glances.

“My, my, baby sister, they can’t keep their eyes off you tonight,” Maxwell’s voice from a shadowy alcove made her jump, almost spilling her wine. Her brother emerged, favouring her with a smug grin as he adjusted his slightly tousled hair. He too was dressed in the local fashion, though she was relieved to see he’d forgone the ridiculous pointed hoods that seemed so very popular.

“Damn it, Max,” Evelyn hissed. “You’re late. Where in Andraste’s name have you been?”

Maxwell chuckled and winked at her.

“Oh, you know,” he replied, airily, “just appraising the local talent.”

“Please don’t go getting any more girls pregnant. Father will despair.” Evie stepped up close to him, batting his hands away from his futile attempt to bring order to his hair. She used her magic to dampen it, flattening the parts that stuck up around his ears, before summoning just enough heat to dry it and set it in place. “There,” she murmured. “You look less… debauched, at least.”

“What would I do without you, Evie?” Maxwell purred.

“I dread to think,” she responded in a mutter, though she couldn’t withhold a fond smile from curling her lips. Taking her brother’s arm, she led him in a slow stroll around the mezzanine overlooking the ballroom. It was quieter here, though the music drifting up from below was enough to mask their voices.

“So where is he, then? Your _betrothed_?” asked Max. “I’ve yet to have the pleasure.”

“Mingling,” Evelyn informed him, rolling her eyes. “He introduced me to a friend of his when he arrived and then disappeared. We’ve barely spoken all evening, though I suppose I should consider that a good thing.”

“Still not kissed and made up?”

Evelyn only scoffed in response, prompting a laugh from her sibling. They passed a servant dressed in a simple but elegant teal gown, gold bangles jingling at her wrists and ankles. Maxwell snatched up a glass of wine from her tray and offered her his most disarming smile. The poor girl almost tripped over her skirts she was so flustered.

“You’re a cruel man,” Evie scolded him, once they were out of earshot of the blushing young woman. Maxwell smirked and shook his head.

“Just taking my fun where I can get it, Evie,” he smirked. “Speaking of which… I’ve been in touch with some friends back in Ostwick. Seems your handsome Templar still has his job.”

Evelyn had to bite her lip against the sudden pang of pain his mention brought her. It felt like her heart had stopped in her chest. “Good,” she managed, though her voice was not without a notable wobble. “At least Father kept his word.”

Maxwell levelled a sympathetic look her way, his green eyes unusually serious. “You really had it bad for him, didn’t you?” he asked gently. Evie merely shrugged.

“It hardly matters now, does it?” she sighed. “I doubt anything would ever have come of it, even if I hadn’t been dragged out here to marry a magister.”

“Stranger things have happened, sister,” Max murmured, squeezing her arm. Then, seeming to sense her threatening despondency, he added, “Come on, let’s have a dance. We can show these Vints how it’s really done.”

Evie smiled and nodded, allowing him to lead her down the sweeping, curved staircase. They’d barely made it to the bottom, however, when a dashing figure in white appeared before them, blocking their path.

“Dorian.” Evelyn greeted her intended as politely as she could manage, considering how put out he looked to have run into her.

“We meet again, my lady,” he smiled thinly, taking her hand and making a flourish of kissing it.

“Indeed,” she murmured. “I don’t believe you’ve met my brother, Maxwell?” she added, gesturing to her sibling. Dorian’s grey eyes flickered to the left and she saw them widen, his lips parting momentarily in perceptible shock.

“Maxwell?” he repeated, and, curiously, he sounded a little hoarse to Evie’s ears. She glanced to her brother and was surprised to see him looking similarly dumbfounded, staring at Dorian as though he had just been introduced to the Divine herself. Baffled, she squeezed her brother’s arm. The motion seemed to bring him to his senses. He schooled his expression into his customary charming smile and offered Dorian his hand.

“A pleasure to meet you at last,” he murmured, as they shook hands. Evelyn wasn’t sure but she could have sworn there was a husky undertone to her brother’s voice than made absolutely no sense.

“Likewise, Maxwell,” Dorian responded, his eyes narrowing as he spoke the other man’s name. “I was not aware any of Evelyn’s siblings were in attendance this evening.”

“Oh, I could never miss my baby sister’s betrothal ball,” smirked Maxwell. “I have to ensure she’s well looked after, after all.”

“I see. And do I meet your standards, Lord Trevelyan?”

“Most definitely,” Max replied, and there was absolutely no mistaking that tone this time. Evelyn glanced from her brother and his shit-eating grin to her intended, who was undeniably flustered at his words. She frowned, beginning to suspect what might be going on. However, before she could even begin to ask questions, Dorian started to flee.

“Well, it was a pleasure to meet you _Maxwell_ ,” he murmured, though his tone suggested quite the opposite. “If you’ll excuse me, however, my former mentor is here somewhere and I promised to catch up with him before he leaves. Until later,” he added, giving Evelyn’s hand another perfunctory kiss before slipping away into the crowd like a shadow. Evelyn stared after him. Her thoughts were practically tripping over themselves in their haste to reach some sort of conclusion other than the one that was glaringly obvious. She could find none. Instead she turned to her brother, eyeing him suspiciously over her shoulder.

“You have to be kidding me?” she hissed.

Maxwell held up his hands defensively. His eyes were devoid of their usual mischief for once. If anything, he seemed a little shaken.

“Evie, I swear, I had no idea,” he began, in a placating tone. “It was months ago… and Dorian is such a popular name in this blighted country!”

Evelyn sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger.

“Don’t breathe a word of this to anyone,” she muttered. “I’m going to go and talk to him.”

Maxwell called out to her as she walked away but she ignored him, weaving through the crowd in the same direction Dorian had left in. Her mind was reeling. People were smiling at her, congratulating her as she passed them, but all she could manage was to blink owlishly in response. Her brother … and her fiancé? She let out a bubble of mirthless laughter. Just when she thought things couldn’t get any weirder…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise!
> 
> It's my day off so have yourselves another update! It's only a relatively short one but that because things are about to get interesting! 
> 
> Thank you everyone who's stayed with me so far. I know it's been a slow trickle of a start but we're getting to the juicy bits at last. Much more scandal to come! And smut. Because.


	6. Family Entanglements

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dorian deals with Carter's true identity. Evelyn helps, much to his surprise.

V

Family Entanglements 

 

 

Dorian leaned against the closed door, trying to smother the tumult in his own head.

So it was _Maxwell_ , was it? He couldn’t deny, it suited him much better than Carter. Dorian had had an inkling at the time that his bed mate had been less than honest about his identity. There was something about the way he’d reacted to his name, just ever so slightly too slow. However, the mage had never thought to press it. He’d used false names himself in the past so he was hardly one to judge. And he had been an excellent lay.

Maker, the man was every bit as gorgeous as he’d remembered. Those devilish green eyes, chestnut hair glinting in the candlelight… Seeing him dressed in the current fashions had been the icing on the cake. He’d be a liar if he said he wasn’t a little affected. The way he’d gripped his hand just a little longer than necessary – and that sultry tone to his voice that he hadn’t even bothered to disguise!

“Venhedis!” Dorian hissed, and he marched across the floor of the guest room he’d commandeered. A bottle of brandy sat on the dresser in the corner and he snatched it up, pouring himself a glass and draining it in one. It was Antivan and rather pleasant, though he’d have drank it regardless. He’d just found out he’d fucked his future brother-in-law. If there was ever a time that called for alcohol, the Tevinter was fairly certain this was it.  

“Dorian?”

A soft voice from behind him called his name, startling him. He whirled around to see Evelyn crossing the threshold, closing the door behind her, and a groan escaped him before he could stop himself.

“Apparently leaving the door unlocked was an oversight,” he grumbled, as he refilled his glass. “Did it ever occur to you to knock?”

“In my own house?” Evelyn shot back, and her plump mouth curled in amusement. She crossed the room at a leisurely pace, stopping only when she was close enough for him to feel her aura. “So,” she purred. “You and my brother?” An elegant hand shot out and relieved him of his brandy before he could so much as react. She raised the chalice to her lips, eyes burning into him over the rim with some unfathomable emotion. _Kaffa_ s, they were just like his. How had he not even noticed? He’d spent hours admiring those gorgeous emerald irises, the way they glittered mischievously as he’d tormented him… Dorian sighed, shaking his head as though it might somehow dispel the delicious memories.

“Yes,” he responded, seeing no use in subterfuge. “Me and your brother. Though for what it’s worth, I had no idea that’s who he was.”

Evelyn hummed with amusement, taking another sip from his glass before handing it back. “I can believe it,” she murmured. “Max does enjoy his little games.” Her brow pulled into a tiny frown. She turned to the bed and sank down gracefully onto the silk runner at the end. Her right hand patted the space beside her and Dorian obliged, though rather grudgingly.

“So, are you like him, then?” she asked, after a moment’s pause.

“Like him how?” Dorian shot back, irritably. “What exactly is that supposed to mean?”

“Maxwell likes both,” shrugged Evelyn. “Men and women,” she added, for clarification. “He always has.”

“No,” the Tevinter replied. “My tastes are more… singular, it would seem.”

Evelyn’s frown deepened and she canted her head, rather like a perplexed kitten. Dorian might have laughed were it any other circumstance.

“Then…why?” she asked. “Why this?” She gestured to herself and him in turn and he took it to mean she was referring to their impending nuptials. He laughed bitterly.

“Because I have no choice,” he sighed. “As I suspect is the same for you. A relationship between two men… it simply isn’t done here, surely you’ve guessed as much?”

He wasn’t entirely sure why he was telling her this. Perhaps it was because, so far, he’d yet to see any evidence of disgust in her pretty face; she simply seemed curious and little bit sad.

“I don’t understand,” she murmured. “What’s so wrong with liking other men?”

“As long as it’s kept behind closed doors? Nothing,” Dorian muttered. “But that’s all it can ever be here - a bit of fun, a thing on the side. A man of my status is expected to marry and marry well, to produce the finest heirs who will carry his family name forth in glory.”

“And if you don’t?”

Dorian shrugged, draining the last of his glass. “I’ll be disowned, which is as good as exiled. I’d either wind up a slave here or an apostate in your barbaric South. Neither is option I care to think about.”

“Dorian…” whispered Evelyn, and she surprised him by reaching out, placing a comforting hand over his own. He wanted to be angry – he certainly didn’t need her pity – but he couldn’t bring himself to reject the first bit of empathy he’d been shown in months.

“Yes, well,” he muttered. “Now you understand my reluctance is nothing personal. I’m sure you’re a delightful girl but…”

“Tits aren’t your thing?” she supplied, prompting a bark of laughter from him.

“Quite,” he smirked. “You, on the other hand,” he added, in mock offence, “have been paired with the finest example of Tevinter breeding in existence and yet you are just as unhappy with this little alliance as I am. Which either means, I’m not half as handsome or charming as I’ve been led to believe or something about being coerced into marriage with a man you barely know has displeased you somehow!”

It was Evelyn’s turn to laugh and Dorian found himself inexplicably warmed by the sight of her smile.

“You’re perfectly handsome and well you know it,” she smirked. She snapped her fingers and the bottle of brandy flew across the room and into her hand.  Dorian held out the glass and she refilled it, rather more generously than before.

“Did my ears deceive me or was that a compliment?” Dorian teased. He took a long sip of the brandy, relishing the way it burned the back of his throat. It was the only thing assuring him that this bizarre conversation was not, in fact, a dream. He offered the glass to Evie again, who seemed more than happy for the liquid courage as well.

“I am capable of such a thing, you know,” she murmured. “Just because we got off on the wrong foot…”

Dorian laughed bitterly. “I fail to see how any of this could ever be deemed ‘the right foot’, my dear. An arranged marriage to a man who only likes men-“

“A man who’s slept with my brother, no less,” she interjected, though her smirk implied she wasn’t too upset with this revelation.

“Yes, well,” Dorian mumbled, awkwardly, “that won’t happen again, I assure you.”

“Really? Why not?”

“It – wait, what?” The Tevinter stared at his intended, trying to detect any sign that she was toying with him. To his surprise, her expression seemed one of genuine puzzlement.

“I never said I want you to stop seeing him,” she pointed out. “Presuming you want to continue, of course.”

“I’m sorry, are you giving me your blessing to have sex with your older sibling?” Dorian had to ask for the clarification. So far, none of this scenario had gone in any way how he expected. Surely no one could be _this_ easy going?

“Why not?” asked Evelyn again, with a light shrug of her shoulders. “We’ve both been bullied into this, Dorian. One of us might as well be happy.”

“I…” For once, Dorian was at a loss as to what to say. He fixed Evelyn with an appraising look, half expecting her to laugh at any moment or to slap him and call him a deviant, threatening to call of the entire thing if he so much as looked at her brother again. Of course, it never came. She simply sat there, waiting patiently for him to respond, her expression maddeningly reasonable. “I don’t understand,” he said, eventually. “Why are you being so nice?”

“Maybe I’m just a nice person,” she postulated, smiling softly. “Maybe I know what it’s like to desperately want what everybody says you can’t have. It can’t happen for me, not now, but you have a chance in spite of all of this mess. Besides,” she added, and her smile turned unmistakably wicked, “this is the first time I’ve bumped into one of my brother’s lovers and not seen him scarper out of the nearest door… or window, for that matter. You seem to have made quite the impression on him.”

“Of course I did – I’m me. And I’m very good at what I do.”

Evelyn pulled a face. “Alright, alright, I don’t need the specifics,” she muttered. “He’s still my brother.”

Dorian chuckled – actually chuckled. Maker, what was going on? He was not supposed to like this woman, surely? And yet here they were, having a perfectly civil conversation. Indeed, it was incredibly difficult for him to hold a grudge when she was being so blighted selfless.

“Maybe,” Evie began, after a few moment of him being silent, “maybe you should go and find him? I’m sure you two have a few things to discuss.”

“I…might just do that,” he found himself saying “Thank you, Evelyn.”

“Evie, please,” she laughed, as he got to his feet. “Only my parents call me Evelyn.”

“Evie,” he repeated and he took her hand in his own, kissing it lightly as he had done earlier in the evening. This time, however, there was no sarcasm, no bile, just a blossoming warmth that he realised was hope. Smiling, he made for the door, wondering where Maxwell might have gotten to, if indeed he was still here. His fingers were on the handle when something struck him and he turned back to the woman on the bed with a questioning frown.

“If I might ask…” he mused, “who was he? The man you left behind?”

It was a guess based on her earlier words but the tormented expression that flashed across her face proved him to be correct

“Not tonight, if you don’t mind,” she replied softly, sadly. “Maker knows we’ve had enough drama for one evening.”

“Of course,” he conceded, and he actually felt a little guilty for asking. “Perhaps another time. Goodnight Evie.”

“Goodnight, Dorian.”

He gave her one last smile by way of an apology before slipping out of the room.

Judging by the noise coming from the end of the hallway, the party was still in full swing. He wondered idly if his future in-laws had yet been introduced to the darker side of Tevinter entertainment. He could hear no screaming, so likely not, but he knew better than to assume. Either way, he hoped that everyone – his parents included – were sufficiently distracted. He had a feeling his re-union with Maxwell was going to be rather heated, one way or another.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Isn't she a good sport? ^_^
> 
> Thank you everyone who's read, left kudos, left comments etc. I'm having a blast with this so it's great to know you're enjoying it too! 
> 
> Updates probably won't be every day from here onwards; I've been lucky to have a bit of free time lately is all. However, I'll try to keep to an every two days schedule. Maker knows I'm itching to write it!


	7. Wedding Day Blues - Part One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The big day rolls around. Evie receives an upsetting letter from back home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Maker's breath, this one got long! Do forgive me but I had to split it up, it was just too much to post all at once (considering the length of the other chapters, at least). 
> 
> The upside of that is another daily update, so yay. ^_^

VI

Wedding Day Blues – Part One

 

 

 

The morning after the ball saw Evie sitting alone in the dining hall, picking listlessly at her breakfast. She hadn’t seen either Dorian or Max again for the rest of the night, so she could only assume their little rendezvous had gone well. She merely hoped they’d had the sense to be discreet.

The rest of the night had been frightfully dull for her – although she had had a pleasant conversation with Dorian’s friend Felix, a surprisingly kind man who’d blushed every time she’d smiled. Aside from that, things were uneventful and she’d retired to her chambers some time before the festivities were due to end.

Her morning had been surprisingly quiet. The lecture she’d been expecting from her parents for ‘wandering off’ had never come. She’d also thought to have seen her brother by now but he’d yet to surface. It occurred to her as she reached for her tea that he might still be occupied. It was hardly a comforting thought; surely he wasn’t so foolish as to let Dorian stay?

Her answers came some moments later when Maxwell strolled into the room, dressed in a silk shirt and leather breeches and looking like the cat who’d gotten the canary.

“Good morning, baby sister,” he grinned as he breezed past her, planting a stubbly kiss on her cheek. He sank down into the chair next to her and immediately began piling a plate with food.

“You’re cheerful this morning,” Evie muttered. “Please don’t tell me that’s because you have my betrothed still hidden away in your room?”

Max laughed and he shook his head, biting into a honeyed pastry with near feral delight. “I’m not that stupid, Evie,” he said, between mouthfuls. “Dorian went home last night. We did try to find you before he left, but Mother said you’d disappeared.”

“I got bored,” she shrugged. “So, did you two talk?”

“We talked,” Max confirmed with a nod. “Kissed. Groped a little… Evie, are you really ok with all this?”

Her brother, Andraste bless him, seemed genuinely concerned and it warmed Evie to think he cared more about her feelings than getting laid (which was indeed saying something). She smiled as brightly as she could manage and placed a reassuring hand on his arm.

“I wouldn’t have told him to go find you if I wasn’t,” she said simply. “Nothing will ever happen between us beyond what duty dictates… if even that… you might as well enjoy yourselves.”

Maker knows I can’t, she added silently. Maxwell beamed, oblivious to her melancholy thoughts. He reached for teapot in the middle of the table and refilled her cup before filling his own.

“Thank you,” she murmured. “So… think you can tell me how it went without giving me too many traumatising details?”

Max chuckled, picking up another pastry off his plate. “It was… good,” he admitted, beaming. “He was a little annoyed with me at first but he soon warmed up after I told him I’d tried to find him again. Obviously, without a last name, I didn’t have much to go on.”

“How did you even run into him?” Evelyn wondered aloud.

“Met him in a fancy inn not far from the Circle in Minrathous,” explained Max. “Which I’ve since learned is where he works, so I guess that makes sense. I bought him a drink or two and one thing led to another and…” He trailed off, his pastry raised halfway to his mouth and a dreamy smile curving his lips. Evie couldn’t help but laugh.

“Maker, you’ve actually got a thing for him, haven’t you?” she teased. Max just shrugged.

“There’s just something about him, Evie,” he said softly. “He’s intoxicating. Normally I’d have had my fill after a whole weekend with the same guy but after I left, I kept on thinking about him. When I was back in the capital a month later, I returned to the inn to see if I could find him. I stayed five nights in a row and just waited around in the evenings. He didn’t show up, of course, so I figured it was just a one-time bit of luck and went on my way.”

“What an enchanting little fairy tale,” Evie laughed. “Two star-crossed lovers who met in a tavern, bonded over wine and spent a magical weekend fucking each other’s brains out!”

“Well it _was_ magical,” grinned Max. “So… are you two ok now? You and Dorian, I mean?”

Evie gave her brother a hopeful smile. “We talked last night too,” she explained. “He’s as upset and angry about this whole affair as I am but, like me, he really doesn’t have much of a choice. It helps that we have at least that in common, albeit for different reasons.”

“So things are less… frayed between you two?”

“It certainly seems so,” Evie nodded. “He’s quite clever and witty once you get past all that bluster. I’d like to think we’ll be something like friends one day.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Maxwell said brightly. “You’ve got the Trevelyan charm, sister. There’s nary a man or woman alive that can resist it.”

“Well, you’d know,” muttered Evie. Max threw his pastry at her.

 

*

 

The days that followed were a blur of non-stop activity. Evelyn barely had a moment to herself, what with all the dance lessons, the lectures on Tevinter aristocracy, the dress fittings and meetings with organisers. She had to memorise the ceremony, because of course she didn’t speak a bit of Tevene and to utter but a word incorrectly would have been shameful beyond belief. Her longest moment of respite was at the Pavus’ estate, when their respective parents had met to discuss the final arrangements for the big day. Dorian had dragged her out to the bank of a beautiful lake and they’d spent a pleasant hour drinking and talking about anything but the upcoming ceremony.

All too soon, the day itself was upon them. Evie awoke so nervous that she threw up three times before breakfast. And the day didn’t get much better. Maxwell came up to her room just after she’d been dressed with a letter in his hand.

“Maker’s breath,” he beamed upon seeing her. “You look absolutely stunning.”

Evelyn smiled weakly. She had to admit, the dress was a work of art, voluminous and white with gold embroidery and flashes of delicate lace. It felt wasted on an occasion such as this, however. A dress this beautiful deserved to be worn to a real wedding, between two people who loved each other with all their hearts, not a political sham.

“Thank you, Max,” she murmured.

“How are you doing?” her brother asked, taking her by the hand and leading her to her bed.

“I’m petrified,” Evie laughed nervously as they sat down. “As if it weren’t daunting enough that I’m getting married, I’m going to have to do it in front of an entire Chantry full of strangers, in a language I don’t even speak.”

“You’ll be fine,” Max promised. “Lucretia’s been helping you practise, hasn’t she?”

Lucretia, the bard-turned-handmaid who’d joined them in Qarinus, had been an invaluable ally. Fluent in both Common and Tevene (as well as Orlesian), the girl had been helping her practice her vows every morning and night. Evie didn’t know how she’d have managed without her.

“She says I’ve got it,” she admitted. “I hope I just don’t mess it up once I’m in there.”

“Dorian will help you too,” her brother reminded her, taking her gloved hand and kissing it. “We’ll all be there for you Evie. Don’t worry.”

Evie managed a smile, though his sweet words were in danger of making her cry. Lucretia would have a fit if she ruined her make-up now so she hastily deflected, changing the subject.

“Have you heard from him?” she asked of her fiancé.

“Not since last week,” Max sighed. “We barely had time to talk, let alone anything else. That’s why I’m here actually,” he admitted, and he handed her the letter, sealed but not stamped. “I thought it might be from him.”

Evelyn ran her hands over the heavy vellum curiously. The plain red seal told her nothing but, as she flipped it over, she noted her name in a familiar hand. Her heart skipped a beat and her stomach lurched into her throat. “It’s not from Dorian,” she whispered. “It’s _him_.”

“Him?” Max frowned for a moment before his eyes widened in realisation. “Wait, your Templar?”

Evie nodded, her voice caught in her throat. Her hands were shaking as she broke the seal, her breath coming shallow and fast. She thought she might throw up again.

Inside the envelope was a single sheaf, neatly folded, and she opened it with no small amount of trepidation.

 

**_Evelyn,_ **

****

**_Let me say foremost that I wasn’t going to write you. I deliberated for weeks as to whether or not I should. I decided it would be better if I didn’t. Yet here I am, one bottle of Orlesian brandy down, and it seems I cannot help myself._ **

**_You should know I was terrified when you disappeared. I thought it was odd enough that I hadn’t seen you all day. Then I got to the library after supper to look for you, only to be told you’d been dragged off by two recruits and a couple of clerics in the early hours of the morning. I was beside myself. I feared the worst. It wasn’t until a week later that my superiors at the Chantry told me what had really happened, that your father had paid an exorbitant amount of coin to have you extracted and put on a ship to Tevinter. Here I thought you’d been imprisoned, made Tranquil because someone had found out about us. But no, nothing so dramatic. You’re simply getting married! To a magister, no less! Was Knight Commander not good enough for you?_ **

**_I thought we had something special, Evelyn. Maker, I thought we cared for each other! Obviously not, as it never even occurred to you to let me know you were alive._ **

**_Your silence has made things perfectly clear. I hope you and your ‘Vint husband are very happy together._ **

**_Don’t bother writing back. I’ll shan’t read it._ **

****

**_Cullen._ **

****

Evelyn’s breath left her in one great sob. The tears she’d been fighting with all morning surfaced and she was powerless to stop them as they rolled down her cheeks. She knew, she _knew_ he’d have been hurt by her sudden disappearance but she’d convinced herself that the lack of explanation was for the best. If he knew what had happened, he’d only have done something noble and stupid. She couldn’t let him take that risk for her. Yet reading the pain and the anger in his words was nothing short of heart-breaking.

“Evie?” Max exclaimed, as she crumpled on the bed, succumbing to body-shaking sobs. “Evie, sweetheart, tell me what’s the matter!”

She felt the mattress dip beside her, a hand on her arm trying to lift her up, but she pushed him away. The letter was still in her hand and she held it out blindly for him to read.

He hated her. Cullen, the only man she’d ever loved, hated her.

“Oh Evie,” she heard Maxwell sigh and suddenly he was right next to her, pulling her up and into his arms. Evelyn clutched to him, buried her face in his shoulder and wept. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, kissing her hair. “I’m so sorry.”

She stayed that way for some time, pouring out her grief. In truth, she felt foolish for crying. She’d known it was over for a while, had mourned the loss of her love many times. Yet the letter had re-opened the wound and rubbed salt in it for good measure. Some part of her wished to run back to the Free Marches, to throw herself at his feet and assure him that she’d never stopped loving him. Even if they couldn’t be together, it was better than him thinking she had callously cast him aside. But that was folly. It was too late now.

A knock sounded on the chamber door. Evie sat bolt right up, wiping away at her tears and stuffing the letter into her bodice before she dared bid them enter.

It was only Lucretia.

“The carriage is almost ready, my Lady,” the handmaid began. She stopped, however, upon seeing Evelyn’s face, which was surely red and puffy from crying. “My Lady!” Lucretia breathed. “Your make up!”

“I believe that’s my fault, Lucretia,” Maxwell cut in quickly. “Getting my little sister all emotional on her big day. I’m terribly sorry.”

Lucretia looked annoyed for only a moment before shaking her head, smiling softly. “It is no matter, my Lord,” she responded. “These things happen. Luckily, I can fix it.”

She turned to the vanity, where she began gathering up kohl and blush to patch up her handiwork. Evelyn mouthed her silent thanks to her brother, who smiled sadly, squeezing her shoulder.

“Will you be ok?” he whispered, his green eyes scanning her, as though expecting to see physical cracks upon her person. Evie took a deep breath and let it out again slowly, steadying her hammering heart.

“I’ll have to be,” she murmured. “Really,” she added, when Maxwell’s face pulled into a tragic little frown. “Don’t worry. It was nothing I didn’t already know. It was just a shock to hear from him, that’s all.”

“If you say so,” Max sighed. “I need to go and change. I’ll be waiting for you by the carriage though, alright? You don’t have to do any of this alone.”

“Thank you, brother.” Evie kissed him on his artfully scruffy cheek and sent him on his way with a gentle push. When the door had clicked shut behind him, Lucretia fell upon her with arms full of cosmetics.

“Come, let us fix this face,” she said, surprisingly gently. “You will be flawless again in no time.”

 


	8. Wedding Day Blues - Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evelyn and Dorian swear their vows.

VII

Wedding Day Blues – Part Two

 

 

The chantry in Qarinus was bigger and grander than anything she’d ever seen in the Marches. It had huge stained-glass windows that stretched the entire, towering height of the building. The masonry was exquisite, detailed in even the most mundane of places; it made Val Royeaux look quaint in comparison, though it did rather lack the Orlesian city’s cheery warmth. Like most buildings in Tevinter, it was designed to look imposing and Evie would not deny that it certainly was.

It was also packed with people. There was a line of carriages ahead of them dropping off guests. Crowds of elves and humans and even a few dwarves were milling about outside, clearly hoping to get a catch a glimpse of the city’s most wealthy and influential. Evelyn closed her eyes, steadying herself against the wave of panic that accompanied such a vast audience. She felt a hand close around hers and she knew without looking that it was Max. Her father was still giving his running commentary on the guests ahead; she doubted he’d even noticed her trepidation.

“It’ll be alright,” Maxwell whispered and she opened her eyes to see him smiling at her reassuringly, though the gesture did not quite reach his own emerald orbs.

“If you say so,” she murmured in reply.

“It will,” her brother insisted. “I’ll be right at the front with Mother and Father – and Dorian will be beside you. Once you’re up at that altar, you can forget about everyone else and just do what you need to do. It’ll be over before you know it.”

Evie nodded and glanced briefly out of the carriage window. They were pulling up to the entrance, where a handsome gold carpet made a path through the crowds and led into the building. Her stomach lurched and she steeled herself with several deep breaths.

Two servants stepped up to open the carriage door. One of them offered Evie a hand and she climbed out of the narrow doorway, taking care not to snag her dress. Her legs felt like jelly underneath her and the murmuring of the crowd was like an angry buzzing in her ears. Maxwell appeared beside her, taking her by the hand. He was looking rather pale.

“You’ll be absolutely fine,” he promised her. “’I love you.”

“I love you too,” she whispered. Max smiled weakly and he kissed her on the cheek before heading inside to take his seat.

The Bann took her by the arm then, leading her towards the gilded Chantry doors. Evie tolerated his touch with thinly veiled disgust.

“This is it, Evelyn,” he said quietly, as they stepped over the threshold. “The first day of the rest of your life.”

Evie’s stomach roiled and for a moment she thought she might vomit again. The sensation passed, however, giving way to a muted sort of panic. A choir was singing as they began down the aisle, a pleasant, lilting hymn that mocked her mood. Hundreds of faces all turned to stare at her, some friendly, others decidedly less so. She could only imagine what they were thinking and it wasn’t worth dwelling on; she knew what they thought of Southerners here.

Dorian was standing at the very front, looking resplendent in matching white and gold. He managed to flash her a smile but it was an empty gesture. Indeed, he looked soul-crushingly sad as they approached him and, between his face and the letter still folded inside her bodice, Evie could feel tears gathering in her eyes again. She fought them back fiercely.

They arrived at the altar and Evie’s father took her by the hand, offering her to her soon-to-be husband. The Tevinter’s hands were shaking as much as her own and she squeezed her fingers tightly around his. He squeezed back, eyes wide with fear. The song ended and a deathly hush fell over the crowd as the Revered Mother stepped forward.

Much to her surprise, Dorian proved to be her anchor throughout the ceremony. With her back to the congregation, his was the only face she could look to for support. They clutched at each other’s hands like a lifeline in a storm, eyes locked, blocking out the world around them. When, on a couple of occasions, Evie struggled with her lines, he was right there, mouthing the words slowly and silently to prompt her. Whatever she’d thought of him back when they first met, he was kind and patient in the face of her worries and she would never forget that.

The actual Chantry service was over much faster than she’d expected, so much so that, when the Revered Mother announced their first kiss, Evelyn almost backpedalled two feet down the aisle. She’d been so worried about remembering the words of the Chant, she’d completely forgotten that she had to _kiss_ him. She met his gaze, wild-eyed and frankly embarrassed. The idea of being kissed by a man who was probably repulsed by the very thought… it made her feel like dirt. However, if Dorian was repulsed, he was a gentleman and he didn’t let it show. He gave her an ironic little half-smile before cupping her chin and capturing her lips. It was a soft, chaste kiss, lasting only a couple of seconds before he pulled away, but somehow it managed to confirm solidarity and reassurance. The crowd applauded. Somewhere behind her, someone wolf-whistled; she didn’t think she needed to guess who. Dorian gave her hand another gentle squeeze before taking her by the arm and leading her out of the Chantry.

She expected him to pull away at any moment but he remained at her side, even as they passed through the gargantuan doors and into the blinding summer sun. They were met by more cheering and the distinctive fizzle of magic as dozens of spectators sent brightly coloured sparks up into the air. Evie had not been expecting that and she almost jumped out of her skin.

“Perfectly normal,” Dorian reassured her in a murmur. “Relax.”

She nodded, though she couldn’t shake the fear that, at any moment, they’d be descended upon by Templars; such casual use of magic would never have been allowed back home.

Their carriage was waiting for them and Dorian all but pulled her inside. He called for the driver to go and soon enough, they were leaving the mayhem of the Chantry behind them. Evie caught sight of Maxwell standing in the crowds and she waved to him as she passed. The tears from earlier made a sudden, unwelcome return but this time she did nothing to stop them. They fell thick and fast, her shoulders shaking with silent sobs. Dorian seemed all the more sad for her sudden change in demeanour.

“Come now,” he joked, weakly, “Surely being married to me isn’t so terrible? I’ve heard I’m quite a catch.”

His eyes, however, were glistening with wetness and it just about broke her heart all over again. She squeezed his hand and felt his gloved fingers tighten around hers in return.

“It’s not _you_ , Dorian,” she uttered gently. “It’s never been you.”

“Oh, I bet it was a little bit, at first,” he teased, though his voice was thick with emotion.

“Maybe,” Evie admitted with a tearful smile. “Maker, it’s just…”

She didn’t know how to explain so instead she reached into the bodice of her gown. Dorian’s expression was one of comical alarm until he noticed the letter, which she unfolded and handed to him. He was silent as he read it, save for a slight hitch in his breath. When he lowered the note, he was regarding her with a mixture of sorrow and intrigue.

“This is him, I take it?” he asked, his eyebrows raised. “Your mystery man was your Knight Commander?”

“I don’t do half-measures,” shrugged Evelyn, smiling a self-deprecating smile through her tears. “If you’re going to chase an impossible love, might as well push the boat out, right?”

 She was trying for levity but her voice cracked on the last word. To her utmost surprise, she found herself being pulled into Dorian’s arms. His scent – sandalwood and spice – was warm and comforting and she allowed herself to curl into his chest.

“A sentiment I am no stranger to, my dear,” he whispered. He kissed her hair in a gesture so very reminiscent of her brother that she only sobbed harder.

They remained moulded around each other for several long minutes as the carriage wound through the streets of Qarinus. Dorian was blessedly silent, for which Evie was grateful; it allowed her the time she needed to compose herself. When she eventually did raise her head, he offered her his handkerchief. She accepted with a mumble of thanks, wiping away her tears.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured. “I promised myself I wouldn’t get like this. Maker, it’s so stupid, it’s not like I didn’t already know…”

Dorian hummed sympathetically. “It take it this arrived today?”

“This morning,” Evie sighed. “Not the best start to the day…”

“Forgive me if I’m missing something,” the Tevinter began, delicately, “But why _didn’t_ you just write to this Cullen and tell him what had happened? It might not have fixed things but at the very least you could have been on better terms.”

Evie laughed mirthlessly, shaking her head. “Because I know Cullen,” she explained. “He’d drop everything and come dashing across the continent to try and ‘save me’.”

“Is that so terrible?” chuckled Dorian. “It all sounds rather exciting if you ask me.”

“It is terrible, though. Dorian, forgive me, but you don’t understand. Cullen’s a good man, a good Templar – do you have any idea how rare either of those things are? I can’t be the one who drags him away from his calling. Besides… there is the other issue.”

“And what, pray tell, is the other issue?” Dorian asked, sounding somewhere between amused and exasperated. Evie glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. She wasn’t sure if she should tell him – after all, the fewer people who knew, the better. However, he’d been so kind to her that it seemed unfair not to trust him with this.

“Alright,” she breathed. “The whole reason I’m here, the reason I agreed to this marriage, if one can truly call it an agreement, is because my father found out about us. And Maker was he furious! He thought it was sick, a mage and a Templar, like some sort of trashy romance novel. He used the knowledge to blackmail me into doing as he wished. He said he’d see to it that Cullen was ejected from the Order, disgraced and… well, he didn’t say it outright but he made it perfectly clear that he wasn’t above having him killed if he tried to interfere.”

“Venhedis,” Dorian cursed in a whisper. His eyes were wide and it was a sign of how far her father had fallen that even the magister’s son seemed appalled. “How charming,” he sneered. “No offense Evie, but I knew your father was a snake the moment I set eyes on him. Maker knows I’ve seen enough of them to recognise one.”

“None taken,” muttered Evelyn sullenly. “To think I used to idolise that man…”

Dorian gave her another sad sort of smile. “Another sentiment I am all too familiar with,” he sighed.  “I say, what a pair we are. Perhaps we do belong together.”

“Mmm, I think you’d be disappointed by what’s underneath the dress,” she teased and she was pleased when he laughed, if only for a moment before he sobered again.

“For what it’s worth, I am sorry about your Templar,” he said softly, cupping her face. “You are a sweet girl, Evelyn. You deserve to be happy.”

Evie smiled and she could feel her eyes welling up once more.

“Andraste’s tits, Dorian,” she chastised him, wiping her eyes swiftly. “I just got through crying, what are you trying to do to me?” Dorian gave a chuckle which turned into a yelp when she smacked him on the arm. “And what did I tell you about calling me Evelyn?” she added.

The Tevinter frowned and rubbed his arm, letting go of her face. “Alright, alright, no need to get violent,” he muttered. His eyes were sparkling, however, and a slight smirk played about his lips; he clearly wasn’t too bothered.

The carriage began to slow and Evelyn realised that they were no longer within the city walls. Indeed, she could see the Pavus estate looming ahead of them.

“Do we have to do this?” she sighed. “Can we not just tell him to turn around and take us to a nice tavern or something? Leave them all to it?”

Dorian chuckled darkly. “I’d imagine my father has already bribed them handsomely to ensure we don’t do just that. I wouldn’t put it past him, at least.”

“Wonderful,” Evie muttered.

“Don’t worry,” Dorian reassured her, taking her hand again. “Within an hour or so, everyone will be too drunk to pay us the blindest bit of notice.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” sighed Evie, as the carriage swerved and they entered the ornate gates of the mansion. Her gloved hand squeezed Dorian’s and he squeezed back reassuringly. “I know this is all a horrible mess,” she said, quietly, “but we’ll figure it out, somehow.”

“Your optimism is just adorable,” Dorian muttered, but he smiled all the same, his thumb rubbing gently over her own. “Indulge me in something, will you?”

“Oh? What’s that?”

“When we get inside, permit me to kiss you again.”

Evie laughed (and blushed a little, though she’d never admit it). “Still don’t have a penis, you know!” she reminded him.

“I know, I know,” he responded impatiently. “But I didn’t get to see my father’s face in the Chantry. I heard him telling Alexius last night that he thought I’d chicken out. I want to see if he shits himself with shock if I do it again.”

“In that case, sure,” the redhead smiled. “Maker knows I could use a good laugh.”

Dorian grinned, the first true smile she’d seen on his face that day. “There, I knew you were a good sport!” he beamed.

“One condition though,” Evie added, and he raised his eyebrows in inquiry. “You have to deal with Max if he gets all growly and jealous.”

“Oh don’t worry, darling,” he practically purred, “I know _exactly_ how to handle your brother by now.”

Evelyn pulled a face. “Thanks, for that,” she muttered.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's to the start of a beautiful friendship! ^_^ *raises glass* Dorian's such a bro!
> 
> Thank you all so much for reading! I won't be updating tomorrow because family day (also, maybe hangover day :P) but we'll resume on Monday!


	9. Wedding Night Weirdness - Part One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dorian is now a married man. He 'celebrates' in a most unusual way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies, it's another two parter. The whole wedding thing turned out to be much bigger than I expected. 
> 
> The good news is that this one contains smutty goodness. ^_^

 

VIII

Wedding Night Weirdness – Part One

 

 

Dorian stood off to the side of the dance floor, his fingers curled around a delicate glass of imported Orlesian champagne. The feasting was over – not that he’d had much stomach for the ridiculous eight course banquet – and the evening’s celebrations were just getting started. He watched pensively from the side lines as Felix led his new wife in a complicated waltz.

The very word gave him chills: wife. He was _married_. How long had he so desperately tried to avoid just this and yet, here he was. The only thing stopping him from climbing into a vat of wine and drowning himself was that it was _her_. Proud as he was, Dorian could admit when he was wrong and he had certainly been wrong in his first impressions of Evie. She wasn’t like the other women his parents had thrown at him. She was beautiful, sweet and gentle, with a wicked sense of humour that suited him down to the ground. She deserved better than a sham of a marriage to a man who could never appreciate her charms.

Not that he wasn’t doing a marvellous job of convincing the world otherwise, he noted. It might have been a source of bitterness for him had it not been so damned funny. It turned out their driver had taken them on the scenic route through and out of the city so, by the time they’d arrived, there was already a crowd of people swamping the atrium – his father included. Dorian had seized his chance, pulled Evelyn close and kissed her senseless right in the middle of the room. She’d played her part well, wrapping her arms around his neck, not biting him when he slipped her a little tongue. He’d even contemplating dipping her backwards but decided against it; it was too melodramatic, even for him. When he’d eventually pulled away, Evie was flushed and breathless, but her lips were twitching as if she was trying not to laugh. He’d glanced over at his father and the look of revulsion and annoyance on his face was easily one of the most satisfying things he’d ever seen. It served him right. If the man wanted him to the act the golden son, then he would act to within an inch of his life.

“You know,” said a voice to his left, ripping him from his thoughts (though he certainly did not jump), “You have a way of making a man jealous, Lord Pavus.”

Maxwell appeared at his side, looking heart-stoppingly gorgeous in emerald green. He was standing at a respectable distance, but for the hungry tone in his voice and his predatory expression he might as well have been breathing down Dorian’s neck. It was more than a little thrilling.

“I’m sure I have no idea what you’re talking about, messere,” he replied, loftily.

“No?” Max said, with a dark smile. “I’m surprised you’ve forgotten already, that _was_ quite some kiss you gave my sister.”

“It was, wasn’t it?” Dorian smirked. However, Max’s subsequent pout was just so ridiculous that he couldn’t help but laugh. “Oh stop, you know it was just a little stunt we cooked up on the ride here - a way of winding up my father.”

“You might have forewarned me,” the other man protested.

“I might have, dear Maxwell, had I only seen _you_ prior to seeing my father.”

Max’s lips twitched, a prelude to a smile, but he seemed determined to keep playing the wounded party.

“Still, you hurt my feelings,” he sniffed, theatrically. “I think you should make it up to me.”

That certainly got Dorian’s attention. “Oh?” he asked, his tone casual in spite of the sudden spike in his heart rate. “And how exactly would you like me to make amends for my so-called transgression?”

Maxwell hummed thoughtfully for a moment. “I think,” he murmured eventually, just loud enough for Dorian to hear. "I think you should step outside, find us somewhere we won’t be disturbed and let me ravish you until you can’t think straight. Does that sound fair?”

Dorian bit his lip. A stab of arousal hit him low in the belly. Maker, it had been over a week since he’d last touched Max and he hadn’t realised how much he needed it. His gaze shifted from the devilishly handsome creature at his side to Evelyn, who was still being twirled around the dancefloor and apparently loving every second of it. She caught his eye over Felix’s shoulder. He watched her glance from himself to Maxwell and then back again and she winked, her lips curled in an oh-so-suggestive smile.

_Go_ , she mouthed at him, and it was all the convincing that Dorian needed.

“I’m going to the study,” he said quietly. “Second floor, end of the easternmost corridor. “Wait a few minutes and then come and find me.”

Maxwell grinned and Dorian strode past him without another word. His eyes scanned the ballroom, looking for some sign of his parents. He found them sat at a table, deep in conversation with the Bann and his lady wife. They seemed engrossed for the time being but he knew better than to push his luck; his father had grown increasingly suspicious in his golden years. They would have to be quick.

He managed to make his way up the main stairwell without running into anyone. The study was locked, naturally, but Dorian had been breaking his father’s wards since he was a boy and he knew how to get in undetected. Slipping inside, he left the door slightly ajar and set about lighting a few candles. Between the flickering flames and the tiniest cracks of dusk light seeping in through the gaps in the curtains, it actually seemed rather romantic.

Maxwell slipped soundlessly into the room a few moments later, shutting the door behind him.

“Lock it as well,” Dorian instructed. “If someone happens to come up here, it’ll buy us some time.”

“Thrilling,” chuckled Max. “Certainly feels naughtier than a bedroom.”

“No time for bedrooms,” said Dorian and he was across the room in seconds, pulling the slightly taller man in for bruising kiss. Maker, had he needed this! He’d been so wrapped up in the wedding he hadn’t had the energy to spare for carnality. Now, though… now it was all over and his usual appetite had returned with a vengeance.

“Am I to take that as a ‘be quick’ then?” Max purred. He captured Dorian’s lower lip between his teeth, nibbling it and making the Tevinter groan.

“Yes,” he hissed, throwing back his head and allowing Max to claim his throat. “Quiet, too. We mustn’t be missed.”

Maxwell made a thoughtful noise next to his ear, a low, rumbling sound that made Dorian shiver, his cock hardening. “Oh Dorian,” he sighed. “One of these days I _will_ have you flat on your back again with your legs around my neck… but I suppose, until then…” He pressed his lips to the mage’s and Dorian devoured every single kiss, nipping his lips, caressing his tongue with his own. He felt himself being walked backwards and he allowed it, stopping only when the backs of his thighs hit something solid and wooden.

“Sure I can’t bend you over your father’s desk?” Max growled. “Imagine having to see him sitting there, writing his letters, knowing I’d fucked you out of your mind in the very same space… My cum dripping out of your gorgeous bare arse all over the wood…”

An entirely undignified keen forced its way from Dorian’s throat. His hips bucked, rapidly swelling cock aching for some form of friction. He had to marvel at Max’s talent; few other men had ever made him lose control so quickly, and with only the timbre of his voice and some very choice words whispered in his ear.

“Stop being such an insufferable tease,” he grumbled breathlessly. “You promised me a thorough ravishing – ah!”

Max chuckled darkly and he lapped at the spot he’d just bitten on Dorian’s neck. “I did, didn’t I?” he grinned. “Well, never let it be said that I don’t deliver.”

He kissed Dorian again, all heat and tongue and little flashes of teeth. His hot, strong hands began to skim down the Tevinter’s body, pausing to pinch each of his nipples through his tunic before continuing on their merry way. Dorian whimpered as they got lower, panting into Maxwell’s mouth. Fingers toyed with the lacing on his breeches, pulling each one ever so slowly, inch by inch.

“Vishante kaffas, get on with it!” Dorian snapped. “You’re being insufferable.”

“I know,” laughed Max but he put Dorian out of his misery, slipping one hand inside and grasping the mage’s erection. Dorian gasped, his hips jerking into the touch. “Hm, no smallclothes,” Max smirked, “It’s like you were expecting me.”

“Maker’s breath, stop talking,” Dorian pleaded, hissing when a calloused thumb swiped over the head of his cock. Surprisingly, the taller man obliged, occupying his mouth with another greedy kiss as he began to wank Dorian off in earnest. Oh, was he glorious! He had Dorian writhing in no time, gripping onto the desk for support as his hips thrust into the knife-wielder’s talented fist.

“You look amazing when you’re all fired up like this,” Max whispered into his ear. “I have oil in my pocket. Sure you don’t want me to fuck you into next week? Or you could fuck me, if you'd rather?”

Dorian couldn’t hold back the hungry little noise that escaped him at that. The thought of being inside Max, feeling his heat around his throbbing dick, was too delicious for words.

“Ah, you like that idea, do you?” Max pulled back, his hands stilling, his green eyes almost black with desire. Clearly he wanted it too. He used his free hand to reach into his jacket and he pulled out a tiny glass bottle of amber coloured oil. “Don’t go easy on me,” he purred. “I like it rough.”

“I’m sure I can accommodate that,” Dorian muttered, and he grasped the other man by the hips, whipping them round and shoving him up against the desk instead. Max hissed in delight at the rough treatment, his eager hands yanking at the laces of his own breaches. He had them round his knees in seconds, smallclothes and all, and the sight of his huge prick, flushed and glistening against his belly, almost changed Dorian’s mind. That was until Maxwell turned and bent over the desk, presenting his muscled arse in all its glory. The Tevinter almost dropped the oil in his haste to unstopper the bottle.

“Hurry up,” Max whined, finally betraying his impatience. “Fuck, Dorian, I want you in me already.”

“But I haven’t-”

“Don’t care,” his lover insisted. “Don’t need it. Ahh, fuck, please Dorian!”

Max bucked against the surface of the wood and Dorian realised with a rush of desperate need that he was getting himself off. Rational thought made a swift and silent exit. Uncorking the little bottle with his teeth, Dorian drizzled its contents liberally over his cock, coating himself thoroughly. He steadied himself with a hand on Maxwell’s hip and lined himself up with his entrance. He didn’t even have to move. Max pushed himself back, groaning as he took him in, inch by glorious inch. He was hot and impossibly tight and Dorian was panting and breathless by the time he was fully sheathed. Max’s muscles twitched deliciously, adjusting to the intrusion, making him hiss with pleasure.

“I… oh! I’m already close,” he admitted, as Max ground teasingly back against him.

“Me too,” his lover panted. “Please, don’t hold back… fuck me…”

Dorian obliged, pulling out to the tip and slamming back in. His eyes rolled. Maxwell cried out, gripping the desk, pushing himself back onto Dorian’s cock. The Tevinter began to take him hard and fast, pleasure building in his belly and blinding him to anything other than the sweet join of their bodies. It had been so long since he’d been the one in this position and he wondered how he hadn’t missed it sooner. Max was so damn tight, his walls flexing and fluttering with every thrust. He could tell by the other’s desperate whimpers that he was hitting just the right spot. Max’s hands were clawing at the desk. His breath was coming in great, shuddering gasps, his back arching off the wood.

“That’s it,” he hissed. “Maker yes, don’t you fucking dare stop!”

“I have no intention of it,” Dorian panted.

He was so damn close, that coil of pleasure curling tighter and tighter. He gripped Max hard enough to bruise and the Marcher snarled, throwing his head back. His muscles seized and Dorian watched, enchanted, as his lover came apart. His body trembled, his lips parting around a silent scream. His passage flexed around Dorian’s cock, dragging the Tevinter closer and closer to the precipice of ruin. Max crumpled with a groan, trembling in his blissful comedown. He looked so utterly sinful, his ass bare and full of cock, his shoulder length hair coming free of its leather tie. But what truly undid Dorian, what dragged him over that edge, was the sight of his lover bending over and licking his own hot, sticky release off the surface of the desk. The mage cried out in spite of himself, thrusting wildly into Max’s spent body. He shivered with each wave of release until he had nothing left to give and collapsed, quivering, over Max’s back.

“Shit, that was hot,” Maxwell whispered, breathlessly. Dorian huffed, amused.

“An understatement if I ever heard one,” he sighed. He was pleasantly exhausted, his body aching and sticky within his finery. Taking great pains to be gentle, he pulled slowly out of Max’s thoroughly used body, reaching for his handkerchief to clean up the mess. Max, however, simply snorted and yanked up his smalls before he got the chance.

“I think not,” smirked, though he winced slightly as he laced up his pants. “I told you last time – I like knowing where you’ve been.”

“And I told you last time,” Dorian shot back, as he righted his own clothing. “You are a filthy barbarian.”

“ _Your_ filthy barbarian,” Max corrected, grinning widely. To his utmost surprise, Dorian felt a little rush of affection at hearing such words and he pulled Max in for a slow, lazy kiss, tasting the rogue’s release on his tongue.

“So you say,” the Tevinter murmured, and he wondered if his lover had even the slightest clue as to what that truly meant.


	10. Wedding Night Weirdness - Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Most newlyweds spend their wedding night getting busy. Dorian and Evie get drunk instead.

IX

Wedding Night Weirdness – Part Two

 

 

After setting both the study and themselves to rights, Dorian and Maxwell returned to the party. They were careful to go in separately, so as not to arouse suspicion, but it seemed they needn’t have bothered. The fire dancers had taken to the floor and were dazzling the guests with increasingly daring displays of skill and flexibility. Dorian had to wonder if slathering oneself in that much oil was wise so close to a naked flame but he supposed it didn’t matter; to a crowd of magisters, it was entertainment either way.

The Pavus heir scanned the crowds, looking for a server. He was in dire need of a glass of wine after his clandestine exertions and there was a little growing bubble of something sickeningly like attachment that he desperately needed to drown. He didn’t see a servant but he did spot Evie, a goblet in her hand and a smile on her face as she chatted animatedly to… Ah. Of course. He wasn’t sure whether to be amused or worried but he had figured that Maevaris would find Evie eventually. From the looks of things, they were getting along as well as he’d suspected.

“Dorian!” Evie beamed upon seeing him, a shrewd expression that said she knew precisely what he’d just been up to not minutes prior.

Mae glanced over her shoulder just as he stepped up to the pair. “There you are, darling boy,” she exclaimed, delightedly. “I’ve barely laid eyes on you all day. I do believe congratulations are in order,” she declared and she pulled him into a one-armed embrace. “As far as women go, you could have found yourself tethered to much worse,” she added, in a whisper only he could hear. “Well done.”

Dorian scoffed at the sentiment but he was not about to refute her words; he knew she wasn’t wrong. Instead he made do with pilfering Evelyn’s wine, draining the goblet and handing it back to her empty. Her lips twitched at the corners.

“Little warm?” she asked softly.

“Quiet you,” he muttered, though not without humour. “So, what have you two lovely ladies been discussing in my absence?”

“You, of course,” Evie laughed. “Mae has such wonderful stories about you!”

Dorian groaned. He shot a look at the blonde, who only smirked, her blue eyes glittering with mischief. “Dare I ask?” he sighed. Both women glanced at each other and burst out laughing. “I’ll take that as a no,” he muttered sullenly. Maevaris only laughed harder.

“Oh you darling creature,” she chuckled, taking his hand and squeezing it. “You know there isn’t an ill word I could speak about you so stop your adorable pouting. Now, I would request a dance once these charming folk have finished but I believe they’re preparing the latibulum.”

Dorian’s eyes widened in horror. “You’re not serious?” he asked, weakly. Of all the stupid traditions, he could not believe his parents had bothered with this one.       

“What’s a latibulum?” Evelyn asked, repeating the unfamiliar word slowly.

“It’s a Tevinter wedding custom, dear,” Mae answered. “I suppose it’s rather like a silk tent, a little private nook where the newly-weds can retire to and share a few luxuries together. It’s meant to set the mood for the wedding night…”

Evie turned to stare at him and Dorian was at least pleased that she seemed suitably mortified by the idea.

“Why would they do that?” she hissed. “Really, do they not _know_?”

“Of course they know,” spat Dorian bitterly. “But it’s tradition and Maker forbid my parents deviate from tradition in the slightest! No, that would be far too shameful. Better to inconvenience their son than lose face in the eyes of strangers.”

“I’m sure you can use it to your advantage,” Maevaris suggested.

“They’re never _that_ private, Mae,” Dorian grumbled, prompting a laugh from the magister.

“No, I didn’t mean that, my dear,” she smirked. “I simply meant that, if nothing else, it’s a nice, quiet place to go and get rip-roaringly drunk, don’t you think?”

Dorian frowned thoughtfully, pondering her words. “I suppose that’s not too terrible an idea,” he admitted, with a glance at Evelyn. The girl shrugged elegantly.

“I’ve no objection to getting wasted,” she said, lips curving in a half smile. “Maker knows it’s been that sort of day.”

 

*

 

A couple of hours later, Dorian had taken Mae’s advice wholly to heart. The latibulum had turned out to be not unlike a fancy whore’s boudoir: a hive of silks and chiffons, fat, tasselled cushions everywhere and more red than you could shake a staff at. However, it also came generously stocked with some exquisite wines, which he and Evie hadn’t hesitated to sample. The result was a blissful level of inebriation, evidenced by the fact he had a woman lounging in his lap.

“Your breasts are enormous,” Dorian observed, as he leant on Evie’s shoulder, peering down the bodice of her gown. “I mean honestly,” he added, with a hiccup. “Are all Trevelyans so naturally _well endowed_?”

Evelyn made an odd face into her glass, part giggle, part grimace. “Ewwww Dorian,” she whined. “I do not need to know what my brother is packing in his smallclothes, thank you.”

“Hmm, no,” the Tevinter leered. “That particular treasure is all for me.” He raised his glass to his lips only to realise it was empty. Frowning, he tossed it aside and picked up the half-empty bottle instead, swigging straight from the neck. “I have to say,” he went on, “I’ve always been curious…” and his slid his free hand over Evie’s ribs, his fingers closing around the swell of her left mound. “Oh!” he exclaimed. “They’re so soft!” He squeezed the flesh, amused by the way it bounced and jiggled under his touch.

Evie squeaked in surprise at the unexpected caress. “What are you doing?” she cried, but she was laughing all the same, making half-hearted attempts to bat him away.

“It’s a purely academic interest,” Dorian slurred. “Be a good girl and indulge me, won’t you?”

Evie hummed thoughtfully but she didn’t object further, leaning back a bit further against his chest.

“Have you actually never touched a woman’s breasts before?” she asked incredulously.

Dorian laughed loudly. Too loudly. Maker, was he drunk. “Is that so surprising?” he asked. “I’ve made it quite clear where my preferences lie.”

“I knooow,” Evelyn murmured, “but I meant when you were _younger_. Did you never fool around with girls?”

“I’ve always known what I like,” he assured her, unevenly. Evelyn smiled.

“Guess that makes things easier,” she muttered. “Or, maybe harder…I dunno.” She sat up, turning around in Dorian’s lap so they were face to face – and effectively dislodging his hand in the process. “So,” she grinned, landing a wonky kiss on his cheek. “What the verdict?”

“Delightfully bouncy,” he smirked. “I bet they make comfy pillows…”

The red-head giggled, giving him a playful swat on the arm. “Rude,” she mumbled. “You’re not wrong though. Hey!” she exclaimed, giddily. “What did you do with those caramels?”

“Oh they’re long gone,” the Tevinter laughed. “I do believe I spied a box of truffles over there though…”

“Hmm…” Evelyn bit her lip, crawling off his lap in search of sugary treats. For reasons that would elude him once he’d sobered up, Dorian swatted her playfully on the arse. She gave another girlish squeal, which only served to make him laugh again.

“Maker, are you always this handsy when you drink?” she wondered aloud.

“Says the girl who’s been sitting in my lap for the last hour,” he shot back.

“Because you keep hogging the wine! Speaking of which…”

Dorian sighed and over the bottle reluctantly so she could refill her glass. How she managed to do so without spilling a drop was beyond him; she had to be at least as drunk as he was, if not more.

“So let me get this straight,” she began, hissing her S’s in her boozy state. “If what you say is true… does that mean I’m the first girl you’ve kissed too?”

She settled down beside him this time, and he stretched out, laying his head in her lap.

“As it happens… yes,” he admitted. Evelyn smiled down at him mockingly, her green eyes practically glowing with glee.

“Aw, that is just adorable,” she teased. She had the box of truffles open beside her and she plucked one out, giggling as she tried to balance it on the tip of his nose. Dorian snatched it up, smirking.

“Now, now, less of that,” he chided. “You’re going to go getting the wrong impression of me. I’m hardly some virtuous maiden, I’ll have you know.”

“You’re fucking my brother, that much is a given,” Evie snickered, earning herself another swat (though this one was more on her side than her arse, given that she was sitting on it).

“Such cheek from a lady,” the mage tutted. “Disgraceful.” He smirked up at the redhead, amused by how her breasts almost obscured her face from where he was lying. She huffed and chose to silence him by shoving another chocolate into his mouth.

For a moment or two, they were quiet, the only sounds that of the music drifting out into the gardens from the main house and the occasional chirp of crickets. Between the alcohol and Evie’s fingers carding absently through his hair, Dorian could easily have fallen asleep.

“So what happens next?” Evelyn asked eventually, her voice softer than it had been prior.

“Hm?”

“I mean, what now? It’s done, we’re married, they got what they wanted. What happens to us next?”

Dorian glanced up at her again. “Well,” he began, thoughtfully, “I’d imagine we get a short grace period before they start harping on about heirs…” Evie’s eyes widened at that and the delicate flush the wine had given her drained from her face. “Yes, my thoughts exactly,” chuckled Dorian darkly. “Good to know we’re on the same page. Let’s see now, what else… Oh, we’ll go back to Minrathous of course – that’s where I actually work. It’ll be much more pleasant than being here, having our families breathing down our necks.”

“I’ve yet to see the capital,” Evie mused pensively, sipping at her wine. “Max seems to like it though.”

“Naturally, it’s where he found me,” the Tevinter smirked. “I’m certain you’ll love it.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” she murmured. She looked rather heavy-eyed all of a sudden. Dorian could empathize – it had been a long, exhausting day for both of them.

“Shall we perhaps retire for the night?” he suggested.

“Can we do that?” Evie asked, and the hope in her voice was just darling.

“It’s our wedding night, my dear,” he reminded her drily. “Everyone will be expecting us to make a hasty retreat to the bedroom. They don’t need to know we’re going to sleep.”

The redhead giggled. “Then by all means, lead the way,” she demurred. “Wait, you’re not going to carry me are you?”

Dorian let out a bark of laughter. “I’m not even sure my legs will hold _me_ up yet, let alone you,” he chortled. He made to stand and was not at all surprised when the scene before him lurched rather unpleasantly, making him stumble. Still, he got to his feet somehow and offered Evie a hand. She seemed equally as ungainly and her arm latched around his waist for support.

“Tell me your room isn’t far,” she groaned. “I don’t like upright anymore.”

“We’ll be quick,” Dorian promised and the pair began a very unsteady walk across the grass to the house. A couple of servants were flanking the door inside and Evie frowned at them as they staggered past.

“Were they guarding us or spying on us?” she whispered.

“Probably a little of both,” Dorian admitted. “Not to worry – I’m certain we gave them quite the show.”

The two of them stumbled along the corridors, leaning on each other for support. Dorian found himself longing for Maxwell, if just to say goodnight, but that was foolish; they’d have to go back in the ballroom and neither of them were in any state to navigate a room full of people.

Somehow, they made it to his chamber without significant incident. Evelyn had had a giggling fit at a passing noble’s rather ridiculous hat and she’d had to lean against the wall for a moment to keep from collapsing with laughter. But that was the worst of it. Luckily, Dorian had enough of his faculties to remove the wards on his door and they both staggered inside together.

His bed had never looked more inviting and the mage collapsed onto it with a groan, ignoring the way the room spun behind his eyelids. Had he been sober, it might have occurred to him that he was going to be sharing his bed with a woman for the first time ever. As it was, he had reached that stage of inebriation where he was clumsy and tired and all he cared about was getting comfortable and going to sleep. He began the seemingly monumental task of unbuckling his boots, kicking them carelessly off onto the floor. Evie seemed to be of a similar mind – at least, she was fighting with the many petticoats of her gown, trying to detach them.

“Do these bloody things not come off?” she muttered, crossly. “How can I possibly sleep in this?”

“Take it all off,” Dorian yawned. “No need to be shy. In fact…” The Tevinter unbuttoned his fine outer jacket and tossed it aside. There was a thinner, softer silk shirt underneath and he removed that too, handing to Evelyn. “Here. I can sleep in my breeches,” he murmured, as he crawled back onto the bed. The pillow felt like heaven beneath his head and he closed his eyes, allowing Evie a little privacy. He only cracked one open again when he felt the mattress shift with her weight. The sight of her in his shirt, which came almost to her knees and hung off one shoulder, made him chuckle.

“You look like a child playing dress up,” he smirked, drowsily.

“Hush you,” she sighed, as she settled across from him, a respectable foot of space between them. “I happen to know I look adorable in men’s shirts. Cullen used to say so, anyway.”

“That’s because it was _you_ in _his_ shirt, amicus,” Dorian pointed out. “Men can be possessive brutes like that.”

“Maybe. What’s an amicus?”

Dorian blinked, surprised at himself. He hadn’t meant to use the word, though he supposed it was fitting. “It means friend,” he explained. “We are friends, are we not?”

“Of course,” she beamed. “Amicus.” She repeated the word carefully and he smiled at the slight Southern lilt to her pronunciation. She’d have to learn Tevene, if she was going to get by here, he thought. It was something he’d deal with in the coming days. For now, he simply wanted the sweet lull of the Fade.

He was just drifting off to sleep when he felt Evie’s hand close lightly around his own.

“Amicus,” she murmured again, and there was a note of amusement in her voice this time. “You’ve gone soft on me, Pavus. What happened to that catty, haughty Lordling I met a couple of months back?”

“Keep talking and I’ll reintroduce you,” the mage taunted, prompting a sleepy giggle from the redhead. She squeezed his hand affectionately and he squeezed back, letting himself slip off into slumber.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to say that I actually really, really struggled with this scene. I wanted them both to cut loose and alcohol seemed like the most likely way to do so but it’s so hard to write people drunk whilst keeping them in character! Dorian’s such a flirt so I always picture him being quite a grabby, flirty drunk too (providing he’s in a good mood. I can see him being a bit of a pill if he’s not). And let’s be honest, who hasn’t had randomly grabbed a friend’s boob after a few too many glasses of wine? Really, just me? Ok, I’ll shut up… :P 
> 
> Also, absolutely adored being able to write Mae! She’s so freaking cool. She doesn’t have as much source material as Dorian though so it’s a bit tougher to write her. I hope I did her justice! 
> 
> Thank you so much to everyone who has read/commented/left kudos! I'm still amazed that people other than me are interested in this, it's much appreciated! If you haven't guessed, it going to be a long fic. Hope that's ok!


	11. Domestic Bliss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With the hype of the wedding over at last, Evelyn and Dorian discuss what is to come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I log on tonight to upload the next chapter and what do I see? B3 has hit the hundred kudos mark! I am shocked and so so delighted you guys! Thank you so much for sticking with my crazy ramblings ^_^ 
> 
> Just a heads up, the updating schedule may go a bit wonky this week as my free time has been downsized considerably. If I can keep up with daily updates I will happily do so, if not it will be every two days.

X

Domestic Bliss

 

 

Evelyn awoke slowly, aware of the beams of sunlight caressing her face and the strong, warm presence curled against her back. She smiled, not bothering to open her eyes, snuggling back instead against her love. The arm around her waist tightened protectively and she uttered a happy sigh. It was all too rare an occurrence waking up in Cullen’s bed. He was a cautious man and the fear that some recruit might burst in at any moment and find them was a persistent one. However, she could vaguely recall alcohol being involved last night and that tended to make him throw said caution to the wind. She was not about to complain.

Soft lips pressed against the nape of her neck. Her hum of pleasure became a delighted gasp when she felt something thick and hard rub up against her backside.

“Mmm, Maxwell,” a sleep-husky voice purred into her ear.

Evelyn’s eyes snapped open in alarm. That was definitely not Cullen’s voice. And she was most definitely not in Cullen’s bed. 

All at once, the previous night’s events came rushing back to her: the dancing, the tent, the copious amounts of wine. Dorian and his blighted curiosity, her feeding him chocolates whilst he lay in her lap, the drunken stagger back to his room… Oh Maker. Dorian. He was still pressing himself up against her backside, apparently very keen to get Dream-Maxwell’s attention.

“Er… Dorian?” she called out, tentatively. She felt him still against her, his lips motionless on the skin of her neck. A heartbeat passed and then he was scrambling away, colouring the air with a rapid stream of Tevinter curse worlds. Evie turned over and glanced tentatively at the corner of the bed, where her new husband was crouched, looking mortified.

“Kaffas, Evie,” he gasped. “I thought… I s _wear_ …”

The redhead shot him an embarrassed little smile.

“I figured,” she said. “It’s fine. We both had a fair bit to drink last night.”

“Quite,” Dorian muttered and he turned to perch on the end of the bed, letting his head fall into his hands. Evie noted that he wasn’t wearing a shirt – of course, she remembered, because she was wearing it – and his usually impeccable hair was mussed up from sleep. It was rather endearing. “Do you think,” he groaned, “that we could perhaps refrain from telling your brother about… that?” He gestured vaguely back towards the pillows.

“I think that’d be for the best,” Evie agreed. “We’d never hear the end of it.”

 Dorian nodded and sighed, getting heavily to his feet. Evie found herself watching him, unable to resist her curiosity. He was, unsurprisingly, incredibly well-formed, all golden skin over light but perfectly toned muscle. His torso was smooth but for a slender trail of fine, dark hair that led down into his breeches – breeches that were currently straining over a conspicuous erection. Blushing furiously, Evie glanced away. It didn’t go unnoticed.

“What’s the matter, darling,” he teased, recovering his composure annoyingly quickly. “Never seen a hard one before? You can blame your brother for that. I had such lovely, naughty dreams.”

Evie cringed. “Maker’s breath, please don’t elaborate,” she begged. “It’s far too early.”

“If you say so,” the Tevinter chuckled, tailing off into a yawn. “Now, if you don’t mind, I need to go and take care of this,” he added, as he made for the door to the adjoining washroom. “Don’t miss me too much whilst I’m gone.”

Evie crawled to edge of the bed, trying not to dwell on what he’d meant by that, and set her bare feet on the floor. Dorian’s room was a gorgeous space, decorated in rich gold and greens. There were plush carpets on the floor, lots of elegantly carved mahogany furniture and enough silk and velvet to make an Orlesian tailor weep with envy. A servant must have been in before they woke, for the clothes they had untidily shed last night were now gone – presumably whisked away to be laundered.

Curious, she got to her feet and went to have a look around. There was a gorgeous gold amulet sitting on top of a dresser, all twisted serpents and flashing gemstones. His birthright, perhaps? A tidy stack of books on his desk revealed titles that she’d only ever heard of in fevered whispers, titles that would make the other enchanters back in Ostwick sick with jealousy. It was only a pity she couldn’t read Tevene. There was a privacy screen against the back wall, upon which hung an incredibly pretty light gown, all jade green chiffon and silk. Someone had even taken the trouble to pair it with matching jewellery and slippers. Evie raised an eyebrow.

“Guess I’m wearing this then,” she muttered to herself, a little rankled that someone had presumed to dress her like a doll. However, unless she meant to go around in Dorian’s shirt all day, there wasn’t much of a choice. Sighing, she slipped behind the screen and began to change. It really was a lovely dress, which only made her all the more begrudging. The jewellery was silver and intricate and the silk pumps were heavenly on her feet after the uncomfortable shoes she’d been wearing yesterday. Neatly laying Dorian’s shirt over the screen, she made for the gargantuan mirror next to his bed. Her reflection surprised her. She looked just like the other Tevinter ladies she’d seen in the streets and she wasn’t entirely sure if the thought was a comforting one.

Dorian emerged as she was teasing her curls into a loose braid. He had apparently fixed his hair and his grey eyes were neatly lined with kohl once more.

“Don’t you look charming!” he declared, cheerfully. “I should be careful stepping out like that. A woman of your colouring would be quite the novelty here. Throw in the fact that you’re actually dressed like a civilised being, unlike the rest of your Southern kin, and you might be in for a spot of bother.”

“You’re hilarious,” Evie deadpanned. Dorian laughed.

“Oh, I know,” he smirked. “It’s one of my many charms. Truly, though, you should take care if you’re out alone. I already suspect you’ve captured at least one heart since you’ve got here.”

Evie turned, frowning at him as he rifled through a dresser drawer.

“What on earth are you talking about?”

“Felix,” Dorian replied, with a wicked grin. “Don’t tell me you didn’t notice? He was practically tripping over himself all night, the poor lad. I suspected you might be his type…”

Evelyn opened her mouth to protest but the words died in her throat. Felix had been incredibly attentive the handful of times they’d spent time together. She’d assumed he was just being kind, humouring the poor foreigner because she was marrying his friend. Surely that was it?

“I’ll take that as a ‘No Dorian, I did not notice, I was far too distracted by your masculine wiles’,” her fellow mage prodded, chuckling to himself. “No matter, you know now. And for the record, should you ever with to pursue that, you have my blessing. Maker knows the man could use a good romp.”

“No,” Evie responded, so quickly that Dorian stared at her, raising a questioning brow. “Not that Felix isn’t lovely,” she added, hastily. “It’s just… well, that’s it. He’s so nice. It wouldn’t fair.”

Dorian’s expression melted into an understanding smile. “No, I suppose it wouldn’t,” he agreed. “Not whilst your heart still belongs to another. Never mind, forget I said anything.”

He moved to the wardrobe and Evie watched as he pulled out an outfit, the very same jade silk as her gown. “I think not!” he scoffed, tossing the thing carelessly over his shoulder. “I see my mother is trying to have us match already. How revolting.” He pulled out another set of robes, these ones black and silver and considerably more ornate than anything she’d seen in the Circle. “Better,” he muttered, and he gathered up his clothing, disappearing behind the screen to change.

“If I might ask,” he called as he did so, “What was he like, your Templar? We’ve yet to discuss him much.”

Evie sighed, sitting herself down on the edge of the bed.

“What exactly do you want to know?” she asked.                                         

“What did he look like? Was he terribly dashing?”

“Criminally so,” Evie admitted. “He was Ferelden so he was exceptionally fair – blonde haired, eyes the colour of warm honey. He had this little scar on his upper lip – nothing disfiguring. On the contrary, it was just about the most distracting thing I’ve ever seen. I could barely keep my eyes off it…”

Evie remembered the first time she’d ever kissed Cullen. She’d been in his office, talking to him about a couple of their newest apprentices. He’d clearly been stressed, ranting on about all the things he had to do besides worry about apprentices drinking themselves ill. Her eyes had been drawn to that scar, hypnotised by it and not for the first time. All she could think about was running her tongue over it as she pulled him in for a kiss. So she did. She’d moved so quickly Cullen hadn’t seen it coming. He’d frozen in shock for several moments – several long, nerve-wracking moments. However, the instant she’d teased that scar with the tip of her tongue, he had melted. The groan he’d uttered had been the hottest sound she’d ever heard in her life.

Sighing, she glanced up and noticed Dorian was peering around the screen, grinning at her. “Oh, don’t mind me,” he said, delightedly. “I wouldn’t want to interrupt whatever delicious memory you happen to be lost in.”

Evie shook her head. “It’s of no consequence,” she uttered quietly, her gaze dropping to her knees. Just thinking of Cullen made her heart ache in her chest. How long had it been since she’d felt his lips on her own? And knowing that he’d never kiss her again… it felt like drowning.

Dorian was beside her in a heartbeat, taking her hand in his own. “I’m sorry, amicus,” he murmured. “I shouldn’t have asked. I didn’t think…”

“It’s fine,” she assured him. “Just a little raw, that’s all.” She glanced up at him, pressing a feather light kiss to his cheek. “Now go and put your damned shirt on already. You’re incredibly distracting.”

He laughed at that, tossing her a wink before returning to his preening.

A short while later, when they were both dressed to perfection, they made their way down to the dining hall together. Evie felt incredibly out of place, essentially a stranger in someone else’s house, and she kept close to Dorian’s side. The Tevinter seemed sympathetic, not minding her hanging off his elbow like a lost puppy. Indeed, as they approached the hall, he slipped an arm around her waist, pulling her up close – though the sly look he shot her suggested it was not entirely for her comfort.

The room was not empty as she’d expected. Halward Pavus and Felix’s father, Gereon, were seated at one end of the table, conversing in soft Tevene over their morning tea. They looked up at their arrival, Halward’s face a picture of irritated confusion. Evie could practically feel the amusement radiating off Dorian. It seemed the servants on the door last night had been spying on them after all.

“Ah, Dorian, Evelyn,” the Magister greeted them in Common. “Do sit down. I was hoping to talk to you both this morning.”

Evie felt Dorian hesitate for a brief moment before pulling up a chair opposite them, indicating for her to do the same.

“And what exactly is it you wish to discuss?” he asked stiffly. A servant – at least Evie hoped it was a servant – came forth silently from the corner of the room, pouring them both tea and bringing them plates.

“Your plans for the immediate future,” Halward stated, as though it should be obvious.

“My plans are to return to Minrathous as soon as humanly possible,” Dorian said flatly. “Though I intend to seek out a larger apartment. My current abode is much more suited to a bachelor than a couple.”

Dorian helped himself to one of the honeyed pastries that seemed so popular here. He didn’t look at his father as he tore delicately into it, apparently thinking the matter settled. The Magister thought otherwise.

“I had hoped,” he began pointedly, “that you would remain here. Now that you are married, it is important for you to prepare yourself for the Magisterium, seeing as you will one day succeed in my place.”

Dorian scowled. “Why, are you planning on going somewhere, Father?” he asked, brusquely. “Truly, I thought you more stubborn than that. And as you well know, I have no interest in following in your footsteps. I am a hair’s breadth from being made Senior Enchanter. _That_ is my pursuit, not the Magisterium.”

“It is your duty, your heritage,” Halward countered, raising his voice slightly. “Your interest is neither here nor there. Have you forgotten that, in less than a week, every magister in the Eastern Imperium will descend upon Carastes for the Concilium? What better opportunity is there for you to learn?”

Dorian visibly bristled and he snarled something across the table at his father in angry Tevene, who only snapped back, reminding her for all the world of her own father. She cast a timid glance at Magister Alexius, who gave her a sympathetic half-smile.

“How is Felix?” she asked quietly, as Dorian and Halward bickered amongst themselves in their native tongue. “He hasn’t left, has he?”

Gereon favoured her with a look of amusement. “Without saying goodbye to you?” he responded teasingly and Evie flushed. Apparently she was about the only one who hadn’t noticed Felix’s little crush. “He is a little worse for wear, dear girl, nothing more,” the magister chuckled. “He declined to join me when I called on him this morning.”

“Nothing serious I hope?” Evie asked.

“A touch too much wine, nothing more,” Gereon smiled.

Beside her, Dorian made a sound of utmost frustration, effectively disrupting their quiet conversation. She placed a tentative hand on his arm, feeling his mana thrumming angrily beneath her fingertips.

“There is just no reasoning with him!” he hissed, levelling a baleful look across the table at his father. Halward Pavus deflected his son’s ire with an ease that could only come from experience.

“It has always been this way,” he said remorsefully, though he directed his speech at Evelyn, apparently apologising for his son’s loss of temper. Evie recoiled, revolted that he would even try to curry her support against Dorian. She opened her mouth to respond but was tactfully cut off by Alexius before things could escalate any further.

“If I might be so bold as to interject,” he said, his tone polite but firm. “Perhaps some sort of compromise can be reached here?”

The two Pavus men stopped and turned to stare at him.

“I’m listening,” Dorian muttered.

“Halward, there is plenty of time for Dorian to learn the ins and outs of politics,” Gereon said, reasonably. “As the boy rightly says, you’re not going anywhere any time soon, and his promotion at the Circle is important to him, as it should be.”

Dorian’s lips curled into a triumphant smirk and he shot a smug look at his father over the table.

“However,” the senior magister went on, “the Concilium is a rare occurrence and it would be to your benefit, Dorian, to witness it. Perhaps it would be prudent to remain until the Concilium is over and then return to Minrathous? It will only be a few weeks.”

Dorian instinctively went to protest but he seemed to think better of it and settled for a huff.

“How many weeks?” he asked sullenly.

“Including this one? Four,” Gereon replied. “That’s not so many, is it? And for what it’s worth, Felix and I will be attending. We already have a place in Carastes, you are more than welcome to join us there.”

“You mean as opposed to staying in my former prison?” frowned Dorian. “How soon can we leave?”

“Dorian,” Halward began, his tone reproachful.

“No, I’ve made up my mind, Father. Do you agree or not?”

The elder Pavus sighed, muttering something under his breath in Tevene.

“You will accompany me to the debates, yes?” he asked.

“If that is your wish,” Dorian conceded grumpily. “But as soon as the blighted Concilium is over, we are going back to Minrathous. I suppose the four week delay will give me ample opportunity to secure new lodgings…” he added, more to himself than anyone else.

“So be it,” Halward nodded stiffly. “We leave in three days. Ensure you are ready.”

And without so much as another word, the head of House Pavus swept out of the room. Alexius hung back, glancing after his fellow magister with ill-concealed exasperation, before turning to Evelyn.

“If you would be amenable, my dear,” he began thoughtfully, “I should like the opportunity in Carastes to familiarise myself with your skill. I must confess a curiosity for what the Southern circles teach their mages.”

Evelyn could barely contain her surprise. “Truly?” she asked. “You would not be too busy for such a thing?”

“I will not be required at the debates every day,” he explained. “I’m certain we can make time. Forgive an old man his eccentricities but having trained Dorian myself, I am fascinated to see how you might compare.”

Evie regarded him curiously and not without interest. There was something unspoken in his request, something he was, perhaps, too polite to say aloud. It seemed he was essentially offering to fill in some of the gaps in her Circle education. Rather than be offended, she was intrigued, wondering what she could learn from this man that the Chantry would never deem appropriate.

“I’d be honoured,” she agreed, with a tentative smile.

“Wonderful,” he nodded. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, Dorian I am going to try and talk your father down from his high horse.”

“Ha! Good luck,” Dorian snorted. “I’d venture you’d have more success turning shit into gold.”

“Possibly,” replied Alexius, the slight twitch of his lips betraying his amusement. “But I should at least attempt it. I will see you both later.”

Dorian made a half-hearted gesture of farewell as his former mentor followed Halward’s path out of the room. Only once he was out of earshot did he let out a long-suffering groan.

“Are you alright?” Evie asked gently.

“I’ll be better when we’re back in Minrathous,” he muttered, “once there’s several hundred miles of coastline between myself and that stubborn man. We are not meant to live under the same roof.”

“It’s only four weeks,” she reminded him, attempting to sound cheerful. “That’s not too bad, right?”

Dorian glanced over his shoulder, levelling her with a deeply cynical look.

“It will be the longest four weeks of your life,” he promised her, flatly.


	12. Interlude I - Lover's Respite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maxwell and Dorian meet away from prying eyes before the journey to Carastes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so something a little different this time. I'll be throwing a few of these 'interludes' in, because it's nice to get a different perspective sometimes. So here is some fluffy smut, served with a light sprinkling of hinty plotness. À la Maxwell.

Interlude I 

Lover’s Respite

 

 

Maxwell watched the messenger retreat, letter in one hand, pouch of coin in the other. It was a long way back to Ostwick. He couldn’t be sure if Cullen would ever get his missive – or if the Templar would bother to read it if he did -  but he had to try. Evie deserved that much.

Sighing, he turned away from the Guild and started back down the path. The sun was just beginning to set, casting a beautiful coral coloured glow over the city of Qarinus, glinting off glass windows and gilded statues. He came upon his final destination of the day, a smart tavern whose name translated as _The Serpent and The Lion_. Stepping inside, he found it reasonably busy, which suited him down to the ground. It meant no one would be paying him any notice. Glancing around, just to make sure, and seeing no eyes upon him, he bypassed the bar and headed straight upstairs to where the guest rooms were situated. Room Four was at the very end of the corridor and Max knocked twice before letting himself in.

“Fancy that, you’re actually on time,” Dorian observed dryly, as Max shut and locked the door behind him. He was sitting at the small but well-maintained desk, a goblet of wine already in his hand. He rose gracefully to his feet upon seeing Max, lips curled in a teasing smile.

“You know, I really don’t see why all this subterfuge is necessary,” the Marcher grinned. He crossed the room in three easy strides, seizing Dorian about the waist and pulling him in for a kiss. The mage hummed with pleasure against his lips, pressing his body against Maxwell’s own. He smelled delectable.

“Because,” Dorian murmured, “You can’t keep coming to the estate under the pretence of seeing your sister only to turf her out of the room. A bit suspicious, don’t you think? You know my father’s servants don’t miss a trick.”

“One time I did that,” sighed Max, but he conceded the point all the same. Everything else aside, it wasn’t really fair on Evie. “Speaking of my sister,” he added, “where is she?”

“At your estate, gathering the last of her things.”

Maxwell nodded, pressing another kiss to Dorian’s brow.

“So Carastes, hm?”

“Only briefly,” the mage confirmed. “It’ll be on to Minrathous from there on out.”

“How fortunate!” Max smirked. “I do a lot of business in the capital.”

“Fortuitous indeed,” Chuckled Dorian. He offered his goblet to Max, who pilfered but a sip before setting it down and walking his lover toward the bed.

“I need you to do me a favour these coming weeks,” he asked, dipping his head to press a line of kisses down Dorian’s throat. The mage arched, gasping, his stunning slate-coloured eyes fluttering shut.

“Mmm, and what would that be?” he breathed. He halted as the back of his legs hit the mattress and the pair of them sank down onto the plain cotton sheets, tangled in each other’s’ arms.

Maxwell licked at the thrumming point of Dorian’s pulse, making the Tevinter shiver with delight before he continued. “I need you to intercept Evie’s mail.”

“What?” Dorian pulled away, holding Max at arm’s length and regarding him with no small amount of bewilderment. Maxwell sighed.

“I… took it upon myself to write to her Templar,” he admitted. “I told him everything.”

Dorian’s eyes widened and his lush, kiss swollen lips parted in surprise. “Will she thank you for that?” he asked tentatively. Maxwell shrugged; in truth, he didn’t know.

“Possibly not,” he shrugged. “But I thought he ought to know the truth.”

“I see,” Dorian muttered, thoughtfully. “And where does my rifling through her correspondence fit into this?”

“I told Cullen to contact me if he had anything to say,” Max explained. “But just in case… Dorian, you saw how heartbroken she was at his last letter. I don’t want to see her like that again.”

The mage sighed, shaking his handsome head. He was, however, smiling infinitesimally and he cupped Max’s cheek, pulling the man back towards him.

“Quite the romantic, aren’t you?” he smirked, and he covered Max’s lips with his own again, swallowing the soft sound of pleasure that left him unbidden.

“Is that a yes?”

“For your dear sister’s sake, yes. Now come here.”

Maxwell was only too happy to obey, crawling up the bed to lay himself atop of his lover. Dorian was smirking up at him, eyes practically aglow with passion. He was beyond gorgeous and Max told him so, kissing his way across the Tevinter’s jaw and down his throat. Maker, it had only been a handful of days since they’d last been together and already he was aching to get his hands on the man.

"Do you know, I am developing a keen hatred for Tevinter fashion," he growled.  "You are a nation of teases."

"Perhaps to an incompetent savage,” Dorian retorted, but he assisted nonetheless, guiding Maxwell’s hands through the maze of buckles and clasps on his clothing. When the garment parted at last, Max fell upon Dorian’s bare flesh like a man starved. He kissed and nipped, licked and suckled, mapping a pathway down the mage’s torso that had him arching in pleasure.

“So fucking gorgeous,” Max breathed reverently, hovering just above the waistband of his lover’s trousers. Dorian was staring down his body at him, breathing shallow, eyes dark with growing need. Max held his gaze as he began to palm him through the fabric and the Tevinter threw back his head, groaning. “Do you remember what I said to you last time?” asked Max, his rhythm on Dorian’s crotch unrelenting. “About having you on your back with your legs around my neck?”

“It sounds delightful,” Dorian purred, and he bucked into Max’s hand. “But I can see a problem.”

“I’m working on it, don’t worry,” the Marcher smirked. His eyes dropped to Dorian’s waistband and the tempting little trail of hair that began at his navel and disappeared beneath his breeches. Max followed said trail with his tongue until it vanished then began undoing Dorian’s buttons with his teeth, one by one, his hot breath making the mage squirm. All undone, he shucked his lover’s trousers, smallclothes and all, down to his knees and then off, leaving him gloriously bare. Maxwell drank in the sight of Dorian’s body, intoxicated by his exotic beauty, enraptured by his own body’s reaction to such a carnal display. Dorian’s cock was flushed and hard against his belly, the tip glistening with moisture. It made Max’s mouth water and, despite the fact it was not his destination, he couldn’t resist a taste. He wrapped his lips around the very tip and Dorian moaned loudly at the unexpected pleasure.

“Fasta vass!” he hissed. “You might have warned me!”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Max grinned and he gave Dorian another long suck, chuckling when the mage cursed and gasped again, before letting him go. He kissed his way over his lover’s thick shaft, licking and nuzzling his delicate sac and still heading lower. Dorian seemed to get the gist and he whined, bringing his heels up to his buttocks and spreading his knees. “Oh, that’s it,” Max praised, his heart racing as the sight of his lover’s sweet arse so beautifully presented to him. His own erection throbbed greedily in his smalls but he paid it no heed: there would be time enough for that later. Instead, he dipped his head, letting the pointed tip of his tongue trace a slow circle around his lover’s entrance. Dorian gasped, grasping at the bedsheets. Max repeated the motion once and then twice before pressing his tongue right against the tight little pucker.

“Yes, Max, yes!” the Tevinter cried out in encouragement. Maxwell grinned – as much as he could, at least with his tongue sticking out – and obeyed, pressing the long, wet muscle inside of Dorian’s body. His reaction was gorgeous, his hips bucking, a ragged moan escaping his lips. Max only wished he could look up properly, could see just how beautiful and debauched the mage looked with another man’s tongue up his arse. Maker, just the very thought was arousing beyond words. Max was aching to take Dorian, to feel that tight little hole fluttering around his cock rather than his tongue. Nevertheless, he took his time, taking Dorian apart piece by piece. There was a little bottle of oil in his pocket and, after carefully pouring a little on his hands, he added a finger to the mix. His lover moaned hoarsely. He tried to reach down and touch himself but Maxwell was having none of it. He batted Dorian’s hands away, wrapping one of his own around the mage’s leaking cock. Dorian was all but sobbing now, writhing under the assault of pleasure. Max pumped and licked and gently fingered, bringing his lover right to the verge brink of climax. When he could see that Dorian was on the edge, he stopped, withdrawing his hands and his mouth. The wail of frustration that followed made him smirk in satisfaction but he did not leave Dorian waiting for long. Max’s own clothes were shed so fast he almost ripped them. He snatched up the bottle of oil off the bed and hastily lubed himself up, pressing the tip of his weeping erection against Dorian’s backside. The Tevinter had apparently lost all patience, for he wrapped his legs around Max’s waist as all but pulled the man inside of him. The pair groaned in unison. Max bit his lip, his eyes falling shut in serene satisfaction. Dorian was so deliciously tight, so magnificently wanton seated on his cock, trying to make him move. Maxwell leaned over him, evidently taking him by surprise, if the widening of his eyes were anything to go by. He placed a gentle, fleeting kiss on the other man’s lips before beginning to move. The Marcher set a slow and luxurious pace, out and in, rolling his hips to hit that spot inside Dorian that made the mage moan loudly in pleasure. Dorian made several attempts to speed things along but Maxwell shushed him and he settled for grinding back, hips moving in perfect unison. Max wrapped his hand around Dorian’s prick again and began to jerk him off to the rhythm of their lazy fucking. Somehow, even without their usual force and haste, it was amazingly intense. Max found himself watching Dorian’s face, every flicker and flutter of need, delight and emotion. When Dorian bit his lip and whimpered at a particularly deep thrust, Maxwell lost it. His thumb rubbed circles around the head of Dorian’s cock and he had the mage sobbing in completion mere moments before his own. His hips bucked erratically, filling his lover full of his hot essence. Dorian offloaded messily over Max’s hand, shivering and gasping with every pulse of his orgasm. When it was done, Maxwell brought his hand up to his lips and he held Dorian’s gaze as he licked up every last drop of his magical cum.

“Venhedis,” Dorian cursed breathlessly. “You are utterly shameless.”

“And you’re delicious,” Max purred, sucking his finger from root to tip and grinning at the way Dorian quivered. Bending down, he pressed a kiss to the Tevinter’s glistening forehead, pulling out gently and rolling away to lie at Dorian’s side.

“Well, that was certainly a change of pace,” Dorian mumbled vacantly. He didn’t object when Maxwell pulled him back into his arms, laying lazy kisses on his neck and shoulders.

“I wanted to take my time with you,” he shrugged. “Is that so terrible? We might not get chance for a few weeks.”

“Ah. Disappearing on me again, are you?” Maxwell didn’t miss the tone, crafted to sound casual but falling just shy. It warmed his heart to think that the beautiful Tevinter might actually miss him.

“Not for long this time,” he promised, kissing Dorian’s neck again, relishing his scent. “I have some business to conclude for my father in Vyrantium. It’ll take me a week or two but I should be able to stop by Carastes on the way back.”

“No need to go out of your way for my sake,” chuckled Dorian, though Max could feel his tension.

“There’s every need,” the Marcher insisted passionately and he turned Dorian’s face to look him in the eye. “I like you, Dorian. I thought I’d made that clear. You’re more than just a casual fuck to me.”

Judging by the way the mage’s brows raised, he had not been expecting that.

“You do?” he asked, his voice adorably breathy. Dorian must have noticed it too, for when he next spoke, it was considerably more level. “Ah, well. That’s good. Because I like you too.”

Max beamed. “I’m glad to hear we’re on the same page,” he whispered and he leaned in again, claiming Dorian’s lips. The mage turned to face him, wrapping his arms around the Marcher’s neck and pressing against his lips. It was sappy, he knew, but Max felt happier than he had been for a long time with Dorian in his arms. If the way Dorian was kissing him was anything to go by, the feeling was reciprocated.

“So,” Dorian panted, breaking the kiss and gazing at Max with glazed over eyes. “Just to be clear: no others?”

“Are you kidding?” smirked Max. “You’re more than enough drama for me, Pavus.”

"Arse," Dorian muttered, but there was something amused in his tone that said he knew Max was right. 


	13. Maiden Voyage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The trip to Carastes turns out not to be a total bust. Evie and Dorian learn how to cohabit.

XI

Maiden Voyage

The trip to Carastes turned out to be less odious that Dorian had actually anticipated.

His days were spent at the Concilium with his father, observing the debates, which, naturally, was as dull as dry bread. It did, however, mean that Dorian had to spend very little time actually talking to the man, so he counted that as a bonus. Though they were not in truth required to be there every day, they often were: Halward Pavus considered it to be of good practise, and Dorian went by default, reminding himself that, in a handful of weeks, he would back in Minrathous and free of his father’s meddling once more.

Evie, meanwhile, had a considerably more interesting daily routine. On days where their host was not required to attend the debates, Alexius personally drilled Evie on what she had learnt at the Circle in Ostwick. To everyone’s surprise, the girl revealed she had been trained as a Knight-Enchanter.

“Why was this never mentioned at the dowry negotiations between our parents?” Dorian asked upon finding out. “It would have been a huge point in your favour.”

“Because,” Evie replied, with a tiny smile of satisfaction, “they didn’t know. In fact, they still don’t. The decision to train was mine and mine alone. It was about the only real choice I ever got with regards to my education.”

It turned out that a visiting Enchanter from nearby Markham had spotted Evie working with some of the apprentices. He had been impressed by her discipline and offered to tutor her in the way of the Knight-Enchanter, if she so wished. Evie had apparently jumped at the opportunity and their lessons had commenced immediately. She hadn’t finished studying the craft, of course, by the time she’d been taken from the Circle, but Alexius seemed pleased with what she did know.

Dorian arrived back after the third day of the Concilium proceedings to find Gereon, Felix and Evelyn practising out in the courtyard. Felix was hurling fireballs at the girl and Evie was deftly deflecting them with a shimmering spirit blade almost as long as she was tall. The projectiles bounced off the ethereal weapon and were absorbed by the barriers Gereon had erected to protect the property.

“She wields that rather well,” Dorian remarked, coming to stand by his former mentor.

“Indeed she does,” Magister Alexius agreed. “A rare discipline, that of the Knight-Enchanter. I imagine your father is once again pleased with the match he has forged for you.”

Gereon’s lips twitched, a clear indicator that he was only jesting. Dorian gave a half-hearted huff.

“He would, if I had chosen to tell him,” he replied. “Although it appears he knows now anyway,” he added, nodding to where his father had just stepped out of the patio doors and into the courtyard. He was standing beneath the colonnade, watching the display with no small amount of calculation in his dark eyes.

“Indeed,” Alexius muttered, following Dorian’s gaze. “It’s a wonder he didn’t keep the girl for himself, the way he eyes her.”

Dorian gagged, horrified at the very thought. “Egad, man! Don’t say such things,” he hissed, as Gereon openly laughed. “There’s not enough alcohol in all Carastes to get that image out of my mind.”

“You haven’t lost your penchant for theatrics, I see,” the magister noted, affectionately.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Dorian sniffed. “Anyway, were we not discussing the prowess of our favourite Southern barbarian? Tell me, what else have you gleaned?”

Gereon went on to say that Evie was an accomplished spirit healer and had a decent base knowledge of elemental magic, even if some of her technique was a little flawed. He did say, however, that her Circle training had left woeful holes in her knowledge, holes that, if patched, could make her quite a formidable mage, even by Tevinter standards. The magister assured that he would give it his best shot.

As well as the work she doing with Alexius, Dorian had also kept to his word and arranged for Evelyn to have daily language lessons. Her tutor was a young scholar from the university in Vyrantium and he was, by chance, ridiculously attractive. Even Dorian had done a double take the first time he had seen him in person. His name was Caius and he had an artful mop of messy black curls and the sort of eyes you could happily drown in. Dorian found himself torn. A part of him had taken one look at the man and hoped he was the sort cocky enough to seduce his patron’s wife, because Evie both needed and deserved a man that gorgeous in her life, even if it was just for a bit of fun. On the other hand, he recalled Max’s efforts to contact her former lover and hoped that he had not just inadvertently thrown a complication into their path. For the time being, Caius seemed to be sticking to what he was paid to do so Dorian supposed there was no harm done. However, he resolved to keep an eye on the situation.

His evenings fast became the most enjoyable part of the entire sojourn. After tedious days of postulating and political manoeuvres, it was a pleasant change of pace to come back to their shared estate and spend some idle time with his friends. They would take their evening meal out on the terrace and share a bottle (or three) of wine. Then afterwards, it would be chess in the parlour or massages in the atrium or even jaunts out into the city. He and Felix made a daily habit of testing Evie on her Tevene, as well as filling her in on all the words and phrases Caius was too polite to teach a lady (Dorian figured that she would hear them at some point or another so it was better that she understood).

Strangely, about a week into their visit, Dorian found himself missing Maxwell. It was absurd – a blighted week and he was already pining for him like adolescent. He was glad no one could read his mind because frankly he was ashamed of himself. He tried to rationalise that it only felt like such a big deal because it had come at a pivotal time in their relationship – in that they had actually professed that they were in one. Not just a bit of fun, not just a casual fuck, but an actual relationship, or as much as a relationship as a married man could have with his brother-in-law. Admittedly, he tried not to think of that part. He focused instead on the delighted smile on Max’s face when he’d admitting to having feelings for him, the look of sheer adoration in his green eyes as he’d made love to him again and again until night fell and they’d both had to slip away.

Perhaps in hindsight, he should have spent a little less time dwelling on that particular aspect of their relationship, for without Maxwell there, Dorian found himself growing frustrated. It got so bad that on the second Monday of the Concilium, he had to excuse himself at lunchtime, feigning illness. He must have looked convincing for his father let him leave without question. Yet it wasn’t sickness that was making him sweat inside his robes. He just couldn’t stop thinking about sex. He’d spent most of the morning hard and wanting, trying not imagine Maxwell’s clever mouth around his cock or his sultry voice in his ear, whispering what he would do to him. He managed to get back the estate and back to their room without incident and he was just preparing to fix himself an incredibly cold bath when it occurred to him that he was alone. Evie wasn’t in their room, nor had he seen her nor Felix as he’d passed through the house. If he was quick about it, he saw no reason why he couldn’t take care of his little problem in a more pleasant way…

Mind made up, Dorian stripped himself of his clothes with lightning speed, tossing them messily on the floor. The fresh air on his heated skin was delicious; the silk sheets as he collapsed onto the bed were doubly so. Immediately, he took himself in hand, not at all surprised by how hard he was. He stroked down and then up leisurely, flicking his thumb over the tip as Maxwell was so wont to do. Then his mind went to work, imagining Max hovering over him, that wicked gleam present in his eyes as he tormented his lover. Dorian’s free hand followed the path that Imaginary-Max forged, slowly caressing his chest, pausing to pinch and rub at his nipples before trailing slowly down his belly. He cupped his testicles just as his lover would, rolling them playfully within his fingers. He bit his lip to stifle a groan, mind recalling the sensation of Max drawing them into his mouth and sucking. The hand on his cock moved that little bit faster and he began to roll his hips into his waiting fist. He imagined Max above him, straddling his hips and riding him lazily into the bed. It was something they’d yet to try and an idea that teased him in moments of fantasy. To see Max like that, his shoulder-length hair loose and messy, eyes closed, lips parted around a moan as he impaled himself on Dorian’s girth over and over… Fasta vass, it was beyond sexy. Dorian began to work himself faster, harder, panting softly with the pleasure of it all. His climax built fast and within moments, he was coming hard on his own stomach, arching and quietly moaning Max’s name. He stroked himself through his orgasm, stroked until it was just becoming painful and then collapsed in a boneless, sweaty, cum-covered heap.

It took a good while for his heart rate to slow back down to normal. He felt sleepy and heavy and he was just thinking that he should really get up and clean himself off when the door handle rattled. It was all the warning he got before the door opened. Evie took three dainty steps into the room before stopping dead in her tracks. Dorian was too fuck-dazed to even cover himself, not that it mattered. Evie uttered a sound that was part squeak, part scream and practically ran back out of the room, half-formed apologies tumbling from her lips. Dorian watched the door slam shut behind her, listened to her hasty footsteps retreating on the marble floor, and he did the only thing he could do: he laughed.

Later that afternoon, after he’d cleaned himself up and had a lovely little post-orgasmic nap, he found Evie in the gardens, deeply engrossed in a book. She glanced up at his approach and the flush that immediately suffused her face had him laughing all over again. Truly, once he’d gotten over the shock, he saw no reason to be embarrassed. Everybody did it and he happened to have it on good authority that he looked particularly wonderful whilst doing so. So what was there to be ashamed of?

“Is the reaction I’m to expect from now on?” he grinned, as he made his way over to where she was sitting and dropped down beside her. Evie shut her book and made a point of staring at the grass as she spoke.

“We really need to come up with a system for when you want some privacy,” she muttered. “Put a scarf on the door or something, I don’t know…”

Dorian chuckled and he reached for her chin, lifting her face so she had no choice but to look him in the eyes.

“Why are you embarrassed?” he asked, gently. “I’m not. Let’s face it, you were bound to get an eyeful eventually. I’m sure it’s nothing you’ve not seen before.”

“You’re not?” Evie winced. “Not even a little? Damn it Dorian, does nothing ever faze you?”

“Plenty of things,” he admitted. “I’m certain you know a few of them by now. This? Not so much.”

Evie held his gaze for a long moment, her emerald eyes thoughtful, before she sighed and shook her head free of his grasp.

“You are annoyingly profound sometimes,” she muttered.

“I know,” Dorian grinned. “It must be dreadfully difficult for you to keep up.”

“Shut up,” Evie smiled. “Seeing as you’re back early, why don’t we go and get a drink? I could certainly use one.”

“I’m fairly certain you just stole my line,” the Tevinter muttered in mock-annoyance, but he smiled as he took her arm.

They spent the rest of the afternoon and the evening drinking on the garden. His father returned at the usual hour and looked most unimpressed to find his supposedly unwell son very much into his cups.

“I trust you are feeling better then, Dorian?” he said, disapprovingly.

“Oh yes,” smirked Dorian. “I rather think I’ve gotten it out of my system.”

Halward Pavus could only stand there and glower as both Dorian and Evie dissolved into peals of laughter at the particularly revolting double entendre.

His father made sure he paid for his levity, however, over the next few days. He would drag Dorian out at indecently early hours and keep him at the debates for much longer than humanly necessary - longer than even most of the participants cared to stay. By the third day of this gruelling new routine, Dorian returned to the estate too weary to bother with dinner and games. He headed straight for the bedroom and had every intention of crawling under the sheets and getting an early night. However, as he was sitting on the foot of the bed, removing his boots, he heard voices coming from the adjoining washroom. One of them was definitely Evie and the other, whilst unfamiliar, was certainly female. He could also hear the distinct sound of water. Apparently, Evie was taking a bath. Dorian smirked, his weariness instantly forgotten. He knew an opportunity for revenge when he saw one, not that what Evie had done was deliberate exactly. However, there was a status quo to be maintained. Truly, he was doing it for the sake of their friendship… and possibly because he could do with a bit of fun.

The washroom door was slightly ajar and he nudged it open, striding boldly into the room like it was nothing out of the ordinary.

“There you are, darling!” he exclaimed. “I’ve been looking for you. Maker, have I had the most trying day…”

Both women jumped upon hearing him enter. The owner of the second voice, clearly Evie’s handmaid, relaxed when she realised it was only her Lady’s husband. Evie, however, was rigid with shock and horror. She was languishing in a steaming copper bathtub, the water strewn with rose petals, and yet she looked the furthest thing possible from relaxed. Her fingers gripped the edge of the tub and her eyes were as round saucers.

“What are you doing, Dorian?” she ground out, and it was clearly costing her all of her self-control not to scream at him to get out. Of course, she couldn’t cause a scene in front of the servants – they were supposed to be a proper couple, after all. Dorian grinned at her and knelt down beside the tub to plant a kiss on her damp cheek.

“I came to the find the comfort of my wife, naturally,” he replied in honeyed tones. The maid smiled mistily as she rinsed Evie’s hair and he had to bite his lip to keep from laughing. Maker, it was just too good.

“Of course,” Evie muttered drily. “And this can’t wait?”

“Should I have to wait to gaze upon your beauty?” replied Dorian, his voice dripping with seduction. Evie baulked. The servant blushed and giggled and she finished her task, rising gracefully from the little stool on which she’d been seated.

“If you’ll excuse me, Lord and Lady, I shall grant you both your privacy.” She bowed smartly, catching Evie’s eye, before she glided out of the room. Only when they heard the bedroom door shut did Evie round upon Dorian.

“You absolute arse!” she hissed, covering herself with one arm and sending a wave of water his way with the other. Dorian laughed, bringing up his hands to keep most of it out of his face. “Do you have any idea what she’ll be telling the others now?”

“That I’m screwing you senseless in the bathtub, I’d imagine,” he grinned. “My father will be delighted, should it reach him.”

“What are you doing in here? What are you STILL doing in here?” she demanded.

“Levelling the playing field, amicus. You’ve seen my all, now I’ve seen yours. No big deal, nothing to be embarrassed about.”

Evie scowled. She was still all but cowering from his scrutiny, desperately clinging to her modesty like a shield. Dorian waited patiently, an indulgent smile upon his lips. He saw the moment her barriers crumpled. Her cringing demeanour melted away as she sighed, removed her arm from across her chest and uncrossed her legs. She then rose without hesitation, her expression defiant, water dripping over creamy skin and feminine curves.

“There, now I’ve seen you too,” the Tevinter uttered delicately. “Not so terrible, is it?”

Evie didn’t deign to reply, though there was a miniscule smile curving her lips and lighting her eyes. It was both alarming and strangely comforting sometimes how similar those eyes were to her brother’s. 

“Make yourself useful,” she demanded. “Hand me that towel. I’m getting cold.”  

Dorian chuckled softly and he reached for the fluffy bath sheet that the servant had left on the wash basin. He held it out open for her but she merely snatched it up, throwing it over her shoulder and strutting exaggeratedly out of the washroom with her head held high. Dorian near doubled over with laughter.

"I do not walk like that!" he shouted after her, dashing tears of mirth from the corners of his eyes. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes: So yeah, that last scene took on a life of its own. When I originally pencilled it into my plot notes, it was just meant to be a bit of a giggle, an example of how two friends are adjusting to living in very close proximity of each other. Now, I don't know... I think Dorian was trying to be profound or something. XD
> 
> Also, Knight-Enchanter is officially my favourite specialisation. Being able to throw fireballs *and* hit things with a giant spectral sword? What more could a girl ask for!


	14. Double Standards

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evie is happy for Dorian but she's lonely too. She vows to do something about it.

 

XII

Double Standards

 

 

The detour to Carastes was proving to be rather beneficial for Evelyn.

The lessons she had with Magister Alexius were easily more productive and enjoyable than any she’d been granted at the Circle. He was a shrewd and determined man; Evie could see why Dorian had grown to admire and respect him so much. He had an eye for the tiniest details and he’d managed to make even her simplest spells more effective with a tug of the Veil here or a flare of her staff there. He was also a walking library of knowledge, which happened to include some juicy little tales about Dorian in his youth. She’d particularly enjoyed hearing about how the Pavus heir had propositioned Gereon the first time they’d met, not in the least because it was the only thing Evie had ever seen Dorian embarrassed about.

Her studies with Caius were also proving to be fruitful, though they came with the pitfall of being increasingly maddening. Evie had known from the offset that Caius was gorgeous – she had eyes, after all. However, she’d never paid it any mind. He was polite and respectful and she eager to learn; they got on with their lessons without any distraction. Yet since her little run-in with Dorian, something that had been long dormant in Evie had started to stir. She found herself fantasising in her idle moments and naturally, as a handsome man but an ultimately neutral party, Caius became an object for her growing fascination. She started wearing her racier gowns to their lessons. She kept her hair down and perfumed and she started sitting just that little bit closer to him each time. Caius, for his part, did not seem unaffected. She could see the way his eyes lingered on her breasts as she leaned deliberately over the table. She noticed how his pupils darkened with want when she sucked on the tip of her pen in ‘concentration’. Thus far, though, he had made no move towards her. It was amusing and frustrating all at the same time and it only made her more determined.

A couple of days into their last week in Carastes, Maxwell arrived too. His visit was kept strictly under wraps – only she, Dorian and Felix knew, for as much as they adored Gereon, they could not be sure that he wouldn’t tell Halward. So her brother stayed in a tavern in another quarter of the city and Dorian took to feigning tiredness or the desire for ‘a walk’ so he could sneak out of the estate to visit him at night. It meant that Evie took to spending her evenings alone with Felix, which was no real chore. He was a sweet, intelligent man and, in another life, she might have found herself drawn to him. However, she was undoubtedly still in love with Cullen and Felix was a friend; she couldn’t use him like she would happily do with Caius.

One such evening found them sitting in the garden, playing a quiet game of Wicked Grace. They were betting for stories and the stakes were becoming increasingly risqué. Evelyn was losing spectacularly.

“I didn’t think anyone would actually play this game in Tevinter,” she grumbled, as Felix laid down his winning hand with a flourish.

“A foolish assumption,” he grinned, topping off their drinks. He made a show of pondering his prize, which only made Evie all the more apprehensive. Finally, he glanced over with a smirk. “Have you ever been with another woman?” he asked.

Evie groaned, feeling herself flush. She reached for her wine and took a long sip before she answered. “Yes, I have,” she admitted. Felix’s eyes lit up.

“Really?” he exclaimed. “Tell me about it!”

“I’m not sure I want to play this game with you anymore…” the redhead muttered.

“You said that last round,” Felix laughed. “Besides, quitting now won’t get you out of settling your debt. So go on!”

“Alright,” Evie sighed, grudgingly. “If you must know, I was eighteen. I’d been with a couple of guys by then but they were stupid and immature and wholly unsatisfying. So I’d sworn off sex. At least, until they brought Herah in. She was an apostate, you see. She’d lived most of her life with a mercenary company but they’d all been killed.”

“Herah?” Felix frowned. “Unusual name.”

“She was Vashoth,” Evie said, and she laughed at the way Felix’s mouth fell open in unabashed surprise.

“You… with an ox woman?”

“Don’t call them that,” she scowled. “Herah was amazing. I wasn’t the only apprentice who was in awe of her. Turns out she only had a taste for the women though,” she added, with a laugh.

“Is that the only time?” asked Felix, seeming genuinely curious.

Evie nodded. “Yes. I’ll admit, there are some women I find attractive. But it’s mostly men.

Felix smiled and hummed approvingly as he gathered up the cards to reshuffle them. “Was it good?” he asked, after a beat. Evie flushed and laughed.

“It was,” she admitted it. “ _She_ was. She was a good decade older than I was though, so she had plenty of experience under her belt.”

“Do the horns not… get in the way?” he wondered aloud. Evie flashed him a roguish smirk and she was just about to tell him how handy, in fact, Qunari horns could be when a crash from the other side of the courtyard made them look up.

“Whoops,” a familiar voice sniggered, slurring their S’s. Evie watched, bemused, as Dorian came stumbling into the garden, glancing back at the statuette he’d just knocked over. He’d been out all afternoon and it was immediately apparent what he’d been doing.

“You’re shitfaced!” Felix exclaimed, looking torn between amusement and exasperation as their friend staggered over to join them.

“Don’t be so dramatic, Feeeelix,” Dorian grinned. “I’m just a little tipsy.”

Tipsy was definitely an understatement, Evie thought, as Dorian dropped down onto the end of her chaise and almost missed entirely.

“Maker’s breath,” she muttered. “How did you even manage to get home?”

“Carriage,” her husband stated simply. He snatched up the glass that was still in her hand, drained it and handed it back empty. “Your brother and I decided to have a little drinking competition after we’d finished ravishing each other,” he grinned. “Clearly, I won.”

“Clearly,” responded Felix in a sarcastic mutter. Evie laughed.

“Dorian, have you even bothered to eat since this morning?” she asked, exasperatedly. “Or were you too busy ‘ravishing each other’?”

“We might have been,” Dorian snickered, and he pressed himself clumsily to Evie’s side, resting his head on her shoulder with a little moan.

“Maker, he’s absolutely wasted,” Felix remarked quietly. “You should get him to bed.”

“Bed sounds excellent,” Dorian concurred, hiccupping. “I’ve been shagged to within an inch of my life. I’m exhausted.”

Evie agreed and both she and Felix worked together to escort Dorian to their bedroom. It was easier said than done. Drunk-Dorian was very wilful and he kept getting distracted – he wanted grapes, more wine, he liked that painting, he needed to piss. They eventually managed to get him to the right room and Evie eased him onto the bed.

“I’ll go and get some bread and water from the kitchens,” Felix suggested. “He’ll be hurling his guts up come morning otherwise.”

It was a smart idea and Evie thanked him as he disappeared, shutting the door softly behind him. Dorian lay haphazardly across the bed, hiccupping quietly, his eyes halfway closed.

“Don’t go to sleep just yet,” she laughed. “You’ll do yourself an injury with all those buckles. Let’s get you undressed.”

“Must you?” he groaned, though he lay still whilst Evie set about unfastening the various belts and loops on his robes. He sniggered when she straddled his waist to reach the ones at his neck, swatting her backside and calling her an ‘eager minx’.

“I am going to kill my brother for getting you this drunk,” Evie huffed, as she heaved and tugged an uncooperative Dorian to get his robe off.

“No, don’t do that,” the Tevinter mumbled. “He was just trying to cheer me up, I’d had a rotten morning. Sweet, really.”

Evie finally managed to get his robe out from beneath him and she tossed it aside, moving on to his boots. “Why Dorian Pavus,” she accused, “you are absolutely smitten, aren’t you?”

Dorian chuckled sleepily. “Sickening, isn’t it? I may vomit.”

He didn’t vomit, fortunately. Felix returned with half a loaf of sliced bread and a pitcher of lemon water and forced Dorian to sit up and eat. He protested every mouthful but eventually ate enough for Felix to be satisfied. He was then coaxed into drinking a large glass of water before they took pity on him and allowed him to flop back on the bed.

“He should be alright now,” Felix sighed, as he and Evie stood in the doorway, watching Dorian kick and fuss at the bedsheets. “He’ll still suffer for it in the morning but at least you won’t have to deal with him throwing up.”

“Thank you, Felix,” Evie smiled. “You always seem to know just what to do.”

Felix smirked back at her. “You don’t grown up Dorian’s friend without learning how to manage him drunk,” he reminded her, making her laugh again. “I’ll go, then. Don’t forget, there’s a spare room just down the hall if his snoring gets too much.”

“I heard that!” Dorian called out, as Felix made a hasty retreat to his own quarters. Evie smiled indulgently, making her way back over to the bed and perching beside her husband.

“You should get some rest,” she said softly, placing a hand on his forehead and stroking his hair. “I have in on good authority that you’re going to feel like shit in the morning.”

“Worth it,” the Tevinter mumbled. He did, however, roll onto his side, pulling the sheets up to his neck and burrowing in. Evie sat with him until he fell asleep, stroking his hair and watching the little smile that graced his lips, even during slumber.

“I’m happy for you, Dorian,” she whispered, kissing his cheek. She meant it too, though that didn’t stop her from feeling slightly envious and more than a little lonely.

The next day, long after a very hungover Dorian had been dragged off to the senate by his father, Evie got up and went to work. Her pitiful feelings from the night before had bolstered her and she was determined not to feel sorry for herself for a minute longer. She took her time that morning, bathing, brushing her hair to shining perfection. She found a perfect dress in amongst her belongings, white enough to look virginal and innocent but cut in just the right way to be suggestive. She pilfered a little of Dorian’s kohl to line her eyes and slicked a layer of sweet-scented gloss onto her lips. When the time came for her afternoon lesson with Caius, she felt determined, confident that today would be the day he succumbed to her.

The scholar was waiting in the salon when she arrived. His beautiful dark eyes widened upon seeing her and he simply stood there for a moment, looking slightly dazed, before he cleared his throat and indicated for her to sit down.

“Good afternoon, Lady Trevelyan,” he murmured. “We have much to get through this session. Are you prepared?”

“I’m always prepared, Caius dear,” she replied suggestively. The subsequent blush that coloured his cheekbones was incredibly gratifying.

They got all of half an hour into the lesson. Evie made a point to touch him whenever it was possible and to smile secretively every time his eyes met hers. They were practising some particular tricky verb conjugations when Caius suddenly snapped the book shut, making her jump. Evie glanced over at him and found him regarding her with an intense expression on his face.

“Forgive me, Lady Trevelyan,” he murmured. “I have tried, so very hard, to restrain myself but I cannot bear it any longer. Maker, you are so beautiful…”

The dark-haired man reached out, as though he hardly dared to touch her, and she grasped his hand, raising it to her lips and kissing it delicately. Caius’ breath left him in a great rush. Evie took one of his fingers and wrapped her lips around the very tip, sucking and licking. He tasted like ink and metal with a hint of something floral. Caius hissed with pleasure, a sound that went straight to Evie’s loins. Maker, she’d forgotten how much fun it could be to seduce a man.

The table was nudged impatiently aside and they were upon each other in moments, kissing like a couple of apprentices hiding in a shadowed corner. The man was exceptionally skilled and Evie found herself melting in his arms. Her fingers clutched at the front of his fancy robes. His laced around the nape of her neck, cradling her head as he pulled her as close to him as he could muster. He groaned against her lips and just hearing how much someone actually wanted her made her head spin with giddy excitement.

“I’ve heard it said that your husband was unhappy with your betrothal,” he panted softly, breaking their kiss and leaning his forehead against hers as he caught his breath.

“I’m not his type,” Evie smirked simply.

“He is a fool, then,” growled Caius and he was upon her again, nipping her bottom lip betwixt his teeth. Evie walked them blindly backwards, step by step, until their legs hit the couch she had been aiming for. She pushed him roughly down and took a moment to admire the sight before her - dark hair ruffled, eyes positively glowing with carnality. He really was quite breath-taking and thought of having him and pleasing him was increasingly pleasant.

Caius took her by the hand, pulling her down onto his lap. She straddled his hips, one knee either side, and proceeded to kiss him thoroughly once more. He was clearly impatient, his hands gliding over her waist, pawing at her breasts, snaking down to grasp at her backside. He pulled her hips down flush against his own and she experienced a rush of heady desire at feeling his hardening erection against her core.

“My Lady,” he groaned.

“Evie,” she corrected. “No titles, not here.”

He echoed her name, reciting it like a benediction. His hands groped her ass again and she ground down in turn, making them both moan.

“Evie, I want you,” Caius gasped. “I’ve wanted you since the moment I first laid eyes on you.”

“Then have me,” she smiled in turn. “Claim me. Maker knows it’s been long enough.”

Caius hummed and he surged forward to kiss her again. He never made it so far. Seemingly out of nowhere, a hand fisted in the fabric of Evie’s gown and she was pulled bodily off of the man before their lips could meet, set unsteadily on her feet. Furious, she whirled around and found herself staring into the face of her brother, who was glowering down at her with an anger she didn’t understand.

“What in the Void do you think you’re doing?” he snarled. “Andraste’s tits Evie, have you lost your fucking mind?”

Evelyn could only stare, speechless in the face of his fury. She glanced wildly around her, noticed Dorian a step behind Max, his face a mask of concern. On the couch, Caius was stammering an apology, clearly mortified at being caught in the act.

“My Lord Pavus, forgive me-” he began.

“Save it,” Max snapped and the man physically recoiled. “Gather your shit and get the fuck out. We’ll deal with you later.”

Caius nodded, scrambling for the table where his supplies had been abandoned. Evie didn’t even get to say a word to him, so quickly did she find herself frog-marched away, dragged down the corridor that led to her bedroom

“What is your problem?” she protested hotly, pulling against his grip. “You’re not even supposed to be here, what do you think you’re doing, barging in here and messing everything up!”

“We saw Father and Alexius heading out,” Dorian said quietly, his tone apologetic. “Max wanted to come in and see you…”

“And see you I did,” Max hissed.

They reached the door to Evie and Dorian’s shared bedroom. Max all but kicked it open and shoved Evie inside.

“Maxwell, for pity’s sake, be careful,” Dorian chastised him, as she went stumbling in, almost falling to her knees. “What is this all about?”

“Yes _, brother_ ,” Evie spat, whirling on the man as he slammed the door behind them. “Do explain because I’m finding myself at a loss here!”

“It’s about you behaving like a teenaged idiot and jumping on the first man who’d have you!” Max shot back, and his words hit her like a physical blow. “Damn it Evie, I know you’ve just had your heart broken, but did you even think about what you were doing? Anyone could have walked in on you two!”

“I wasn’t planning on fucking him right there, Max!” Evie snapped. Her eyes were pricking with tears, which only made her more angry; she didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of seeing her upset.

“Could have fooled me,” he snorted. “Maker damn it all, Evie, your fucking tutor? Really?”

“Don’t!” she screamed, before he could so much as utter another word. “Don’t you dare!” She was shaking with indignation, the tears welling in her eyes. She probably looked the definition of hysterical but in that moment, she didn’t care. “You filthy, fucking hypocrite,” she seethed, and somehow it was that tone, not her yelling, that made Maxwell flinch. “How dare you criticise me for who I sleep with, _you_! You who’ve bedded your way across half of Thedas, who’s fucked men, women, elves, humans, servants and even a _bloody prince_ indiscriminately! Don’t you dare!” Her voice cracked then and she could feel the hot tears rolling unbidden down her cheeks. “You were supposed to be the one person who’d always had my back, like I’ve had yours,” she whispered. “And yet here you are, judging me for having a bit of fun? Who the fuck are you?”

Max’s face crumpled, his expression tortured. “Evie,” he murmured, but Evie didn’t want to hear it.

“No, Max,” she muttered. “I’m really not interested. Just… get the fuck out of my way.”

She elbowed her way past him, heading for the door. Dorian reached out to stop her, looking more conflicted than she had ever seen a person look.

“Evie, stay,” he implored her, his eyes bright. Evie shook her head, tears falling thicker and faster with each passing moment.

“I can’t,” she whispered. “Later…”

It was all she could managed before emotion choked her completely. Head bowed, she all but ran out of the room and down the corridor. Her tears turned into wracking sobs. Her feet carried her around twists and turns, down paths she hasn’t yet seen, until she found herself in a quiet hallway. There, she sank to the floor, letting her turbulent emotions overcome her. How could he? Of all the people in the world, he had been the one who had stuck by her through everything. Not weeks ago, he had told her she needed to have some fun, to go enjoy herself. Now he was shaming her like a disappointed parent? She could scarcely believe it.

She wasn’t sure how long she sat on that cold marble floor in the empty hallway. She saw no one, heard no one. Her tears fell freely until she could cry no more and still she sat there, unable to summon the will or the energy to pick her mess of a person up off the ground. Her eyes were long dry by the time by time she heard footsteps behind her. A familiar scent tickled her nose and she knew it was Dorian even before he picked her up and pulled her into his arms.

“Where is he?” she whispered.

“He’s gone back to the tavern,” Dorian replied, gently. “I sent him to go and cool off.”

“Really?” Evie glanced up to look at him and found him smiling wanly, his kohl-lined eyes ever so slightly smudged.

“Really,” he chuckled. “I’m not so smitten that I can’t see when the man is wrong, you know.”

 Evie smiled in spite of herself, pulling her friend into a fiercely tight embrace.

“Yes, yes, I’m wonderful, I know,” he sighed, stroking her hair. “It _is_ a burden. What do you say we head to the library? Nice and quiet in there and I know for a fact there’s an excellent bottle of brandy with our name on it.”

Evie nodded and she leant on the Tevinter, letting him guide her in the right direction.

“For what it’s worth,” he added, softly, “I think you have excellent taste. He’d have been my first pick as well.”

She laughed at that, albeit weakly, and he pulled her close, letting his warmth and his playful humour soothe her hurt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, that one was a bit longer than usual. My eyes are a bit off today so forgive me if I've missed more mistakes than usual. 
> 
> Firstly... don't hate me! I know, I'm cruel, but it gets soooooo much better soon. 
> 
> Secondly... please don't hate Max! I know he comes across as a total douche in this chapter but he has his reasons, some of which you already know. Bear with me! 
> 
>  
> 
> ** 
> 
>    
> PS - If you need a bit of a laugh after that... https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6_9lUAWZrxw I'd never heard some of these until very recently. That first fifteen seconds.. that snigger! XD Oh, Dorian, you never fail to amuse.
> 
> PPS - Yes, Evie did bang the Qunari female inquisitor. ^_^ I like cameos, what can I say?


	15. Making Amends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evie thinks her brother is an arse. Maxwell knows he is. He tries to make things right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, it's a short one this time. There were a few things to wrap up before we move on to the next bit of action!

XIII

Making Amends

 

Being stuck in the middle of a fight between two siblings was not a pleasant place to be, as Dorian soon learned.

Evie was miserable for the rest of the day. She didn’t touch her evening meal and when Felix suggested cards and drinks out on the terrace again, she simply shook her head and wandered away. Dorian had expected her to come back but after an hour, he'd gotten worried and gone to look for her. He found her curled up on their bed, fast asleep.

It was very difficult not to take sides. Of course, he thought Maxwell’s reaction had been completely unreasonable and he’d told his lover so, but they both knew there was more to it than that. Max had been beside himself when Evie had stormed out earlier.

“She’s right,” he’d muttered, sinking onto the bed with his head in his hands. “I am a fucking hypocrite.”

“Perhaps,” Dorian had suggested gently, “you should start by telling me what that was all about.”

Max had groaned, his hands fisting in his hair and twisting it into a dishevelled mess.

“I don’t know,” he’d admitted. “Honestly… I just saw that smarmy wanker with his hands all over her and I just lost it!”

Dorian had smiled ruefully. “I see. So that was you being overprotective of your younger sister?”

“I guess,” Max had sighed. “I don’t know how to explain it to you. It’s like, I know Evie’s had men before but I’ve never had to see it, you know?”

“I think I’m beginning to understand…”

“And that guy! Taking advantage of her like that! A young woman out of her comfort zone, trapped in an unhappy marriage… it’s easy prey. I’d know… I’ve been that guy…”

Dorian had snorted at that. “Then it seems your ire was misplaced. You should have been shouting at him, rather than her.”

“I know that,” Max had groaned, and he’d flopped back onto the bed with his face in his hands. “I just reacted. She was about to throw everything away-”

“Maxwell, amatus, she doesn’t know there _is_ anything to throw away,” Dorian had reminded him. “She thinks it’s over.”

“It might well be, I suppose,” Max muttered. “Shit. _Shit!_ Do you think I’ve done the right thing by trying to contact him? Maybe I should have just left her to move on.”

The Tevinter had sighed quietly at that, sitting himself on the bed next to his lover. “Right or wrong, you were trying to help,” he’d murmured. “No one can blame you for that.” He’d stroked Max’s cheek then, not liking to see the man so conflicted. “You do owe your sister an apology, though,” he’d added. “She did not deserve that.”

“I know, and I will. Maybe it’s best to let her cool off a little first, though?”

Dorian had agreed. He’d seen how impressive Evie’s fireballs were getting under Gereon’s tutelage and he was rather fond of his lover’s hair as it was – unsinged. Max had left a little while after that – once Dorian had suitably reassured him that yes, he was an ass, but no, that didn’t change how he felt about him. It was then that he’d gone to find Evie.

Looking down now at her sleeping form, her expression troubled, her face still stained with tear tracks, he resolved to try and patch things up between them in the morning. For the time being, though, he let her rest.

In the morning, Dorian had the servants bring them breakfast in bed and they spent a pleasant hour lounging around, drinking tea and sharing food. Evie said nothing of her fight with Maxwell and Dorian let it lie until after their breakfast things had been cleared away. She was sitting at the vanity, pinning her curls into an intricate knot on top of her head, when he chose to broach the subject.

“So, amicus,” he began, carefully. “About yesterday…”

Evelyn sighed and she set down her comb with a touch more force than necessary.

“I should have known you were trying to butter me up,” she muttered. “Has he coaxed you into fighting his battles for him now?”

“Nothing of the sort,” Dorian assured her. “I stand by what I said yesterday: his treatment of you was unfair and entirely uncalled for. He knows it too. My only request is that when he attempts to apologise, you hear him out.”

“Why should I?” the redhead frowned. “He wasn’t interested in hearing a word I had to say yesterday.”

“Because he’s your brother?” the Tevinter reminded her. “Your brother who’s well aware that he acted like a total cretin, for what it’s worth.”

“Is he now?” Evie shot him a doubtful look in the mirror, her tone flat and disinterested. However, there was a glimmer of sadness in her green eyes, something weary and hurting that told more than her expression ever could. Dorian heaved a sigh and he rose from the bed to join her before the mirror, perching himself on the arm of her chair.

“Evie,” he said, firmly. “I know he hurt you. But I also know he didn’t mean to. He loves you dearly. He was quite distressed after you left.”

“Good,” she glowered, but she softened with a huff at the look he gave her. “Fine, I’ll hear him out, if and when he chooses to show his face.”

“That is all I ask, darling girl,” he smiled, and he kissed her on the cheek. “There’s to be a ball tonight,” he added cheerfully, deciding to drop the issue for now. “Do you want to go?”

“Will Max be there?” asked Evie sullenly.

“It is possible,” Dorian admitted. “Your father is amassing quite the reputation for himself and a gathering of magisters would be an excellent opportunity to expand his contacts.” When she didn’t answer after several long moments, he added, “It was only a suggestion, amicus. We don’t have to.”

“No, let’s go,” Evie replied, taking his hand and squeezing it. “I quite fancy the idea of a party… and no matter how much he’s pissed me off, I suppose I can’t deny you the chance to suck face with my brother.”

“’Suck face’?!” Dorian repeated, feigning offence. “I do not ‘suck face’ with anyone.”

“If you say so,” she laughed. “Now come on. If we’re going out tonight, I want something new to wear. We’re going shopping.”

“A woman after my own heart,” Dorian grinned, and he hastened to dress, pleased by the prospect of retail therapy.

 

*

 

The ball was one of several events marking the close of the Concilium, each more sinfully decadent than the last. Dorian and Evie attended them all, largely at the behest of his father, though Dorian would not deny enjoying a good party. Max’s presence made them significantly more entertaining, of course. He was there as his father’s representative but that didn’t stop him from seeking Dorian out and dragging him off to some secluded corner at any chance he got. They’d almost gotten caught at one point, having broken into their host’s guest wing and proceeding to put his furniture through some very rigorous testing. A servant had apparently heard them and they only just managed to douse the candles in time, scrambling under the bed to avoid detection. The servant had then taken her sweet time in looking around. Indeed, Max had managed to bring Dorian to climax with his mouth, muffling his cries of pleasure with a well placed hand, before the maid decided to leave.

As well as opportunities for a few stolen moments between lovers, the parties allowed chance for Maxwell to apologise to his sister. It was painful to witness. The poor man fumbled with his words, tripping over himself in the face of Evie’s cold fury. He admitted his fault and all but begged her for her forgiveness. There was a horrible moment when Dorian thought she might not grant it, might tell him to go and fuck himself instead. However, Max drew her into his arms and kissed her hair, whispering his apologies over and over until she crumbled like dry sand. There were tears all around and Dorian was thankful that he’d had the sense to drag them outside before letting them go at it. It wouldn’t do for anyone to see him being so soppy. Things were a little strained between the siblings afterwards but Dorian was sure they’d return to their former rapport in time; forgiveness was not instant, after all, not in his experience.

The Concilium soon drew to a close and Dorian’s focus turned to their upcoming journey to Minrathous. He could not deny, in spite of the long trek ahead of them (he refused to go by boat, no matter how much quicker it would be) he was excited by the prospect of returning to the capital. It had long been more of a home to him than Qarinus ever would be and he was genuinely looking forward to introducing Evie to the true wonders of the Imperium. She had spent so much of her life being punished for her magic, being told it was shameful, to be feared. He wanted to show her what their kind could do when they weren’t shackled like criminals.

Their little caravan was ready to set out by the Monday evening. Considering Asariel was more or less en route to Minrathous, Felix and Gereon had deigned to join them for most of the journey. As such, there would be two carriages, the wagons carrying their belongings and a good half dozen horses belonging to the company hired at Halward’s request to keep them safe. Maxwell had come to the estate to see them off, claiming his father had sent him to check on his youngest sister. Dorian knew better and, though they could do little more than talk with Gereon and the mercenaries hanging around, it touched him that his lover had come to say farewell.

“I feel better knowing you’ve got protection,” Max murmured, eyeing the men who were guarding the wagons with approval in his eyes.

“It’s a touch too much, in my opinion,” Dorian sighed. “I’ve travelled the Imperial Highway plenty of times without incident. However, my father insisted and if it means getting him out of my hair faster, I was hardly going to refuse.”

Max chuckled. “He’s gone then?”

“Back to Qarinus,” Dorian confirmed. “I must admit, I already feel lighter for not having him breathing down my neck. Things should be much more pleasant for us in Minrathous, amatus. We won’t have to sneak around in our own home, at the very least. Which reminds me,” he added, thoughtfully. “I must send a runner ahead with those documents. I want the new place ready for us when we arrive.”

“How very exciting,” the Marcher said, in a sly voice. “Think of all those new rooms we’ll have to christen…”

“A task I very much look forward to,” Dorian purred. They stood side by side for a moment, pretending to watch the last of the trunks being secured on the wagon. Maxwell caught Dorian’s eye and the look that passed between them was nothing short of smouldering.

It was fortunate, in a way, then that Alexius chose that moment to call him over. His self-control was wavering and he needed to remove himself from his lover’s presence before he did something stupid.

“It seems we’re ready to go,” he sighed, as Evie glided over to hurry them along.

“Take care, both of you,” Max requested. “I should be able to join you there by the end of the month.”

“See that you do,” Dorian smiled, though it was a bittersweet gesture. “I’m growing impatient, amatus.”

They said their quiet – and depressingly chaste - goodbyes and Evie took Dorian by the arm, leading him towards their waiting carriage.

“Come on,” she said softly, giving him a reassuring squeeze. “You’ll be all over each other again in no time.”

Dorian knew that, of course, but somehow it still ached as their little convoy pulled away from the house, leaving his lover behind. Evie seemed to sense his distress and put her arm around him, pressing a comforting kiss upon his cheek. Dorian curled into her and laid his head on her chest, determined to avoid looking at those eyes that were so eerily like her brother's.


	16. Homecoming Interrupted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evie and Dorian make their way to their new home in Minrathous but the journey does not go as smoothly as planned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting a little earlier today as I have a date with Captain Morgan and Mr Ichabod Crane (recap before the new season). ^_^
> 
> I really hope I've done ok with this, writing action really never has been my strong point. Fingers crossed. 
> 
> **This chapter comes with a warning: depictions of physical violence ahead.**

XIV

Homecoming Interrupted

 

 

Having spent most of her life shut up in the Circle Tower, Evie found she rather had a taste for travel. True, it was a little dull being cooped up inside the carriage – she much preferred being on horseback – but watching the world roll past her, ever changing and alive, was utterly fascinating.

It was unfortunate then that her husband was such a terrible travelling companion. He bitched at every discomfort, from the lack of decent meals to being cold at night to simply being bored. He bemoaned having to sleep in the carriage, yet the suggestion of camping sent him into a fit of derisive laughter. Evie found it was worth her while to keep him as entertained as possible, though after the first day on the road she’d concluded that plying him with wine was not the way to do that. He’d been moody and melancholy about leaving Max behind and he’d riled up their escorts by stopping them every half hour so he could relieve himself.

The second day had been better. To keep things interesting, they’d decided to swap company after breakfast and then again after they’d stopped for lunch. Evie had spent a pleasant morning with Felix, telling stories and playing a few rounds of Wicked Grace. Then, after a hasty lunch, she sat the afternoon with Gereon, who educated her all about the lands they were travelling through. They swapped back one final time after stopping for their evening meal, which Dorian had forced down with no small amount of complaining. Evie had then had the great pleasure of listing to him grumble about it for most of the evening – that was until she’d pulled his feet into her lap and started fussing over them. It was the quietest he’d been since they left Carastes – save for the occasional drowsy direction – and she made a note of that particular quirk for later use.

The third day saw the heavens open and it was only because of Tevinter’s superior roads that they weren’t slowed to a halt. Cramped as they were, Evie was suddenly very glad of the carriages. She suspected Dorian was too, if the cease in his complaining was anything to go by. They took their meals on the go, stopping only when truly necessary and even then it wasn’t for very long.

Evie managed to nap during the afternoon, exhausted from the two previous nights’ worth of broken sleep. When she awoke, the rain had eased into a light drizzle, though the sky was still grey as far as the eye could see. She glanced over to Dorian, who had a book open in his lap. His eyes, however, weren’t focused on the page and the little smile on his lips suggested his mind was on something other than ‘ _Mortalitasi: For the Living, the Dead’_.

“Whatever are you thinking about?” she teased, inching close enough to rest her head on his shoulder. “Or should that be whoever?” she amended, smirking up at him knowingly. Dorian snapped his book shut, glancing down his nose at her with amusement in his grey eyes.

“Now, that would be telling, wouldn’t it?” he winked. “Besides, I don’t think you want to know about all the terribly wicked things I’m planning on doing to your brother when I next see him.”

Evie’s lip curled in revulsion. “No, you’re right,” she agreed. “I really don’t. This new place has locks on the doors, right?”

He laughed at that, setting is book aside to reach for something in his bag.

“Don’t worry about that,” he assured her. “There’s plenty of space. We’ll keep our business to our own room.”

“Liar,” Evie accused, playfully.

“Oh alright,” Dorian conceded. “We’ll keep it out of your room, at the very least.”

“Oh, so we’ll be getting our own rooms?” For some reason she couldn’t even begin to explain, the thought made her sad. She was getting accustomed to sharing close quarters with Dorian. It was about the closest thing to human intimacy she had in her life and if that thought wasn’t depressing, she didn’t know what was.

“Only for occasions when your brother is staying with us,” Dorian corrected her. “I’m afraid you’re stuck with me for the rest of the time. Your own fault, of course: you’ve rather spoilt me with all the back rubs and the lovely hair stroking. I’ll never be able to sleep on my own again.”

She smiled to herself. Something told her he might be taking pity on her but she wasn’t about to turn him down. She watched him pull a neatly folded piece of parchment out of his bag with a flourish and he opened it out, showing it to her.

“Here we are,” he declared. “I honestly thought I’d shown you these already…”

‘These’ turned out to be detailed floor plans on their new apartment. Even on paper, the place was impressive. Evie spotted three spacious bedrooms, two washrooms and one larger, communal bathroom, a great room, a separate dining room and a study, not to mention the kitchens and servants’ quarters.

“Dorian, this is incredible,” she breathed. “I had no idea city dwellings could be so lofty!”

“It’s Minrathous, darling,” he chuckled. “Home to some of the wealthiest and most influential in the Empire. Would you expect anything less?”

“I suppose not,” she smiled. “Still… I’ve never seen anything like this.”

“We shan’t have to sacrifice on space, true,” Dorian agreed. “Though it’s still compact enough that we can keep the staff relatively small. They’ll be ours too, so no need to worry about them reporting back to my father. It’s bad enough having eyes on you every time you leave the house…”

Evie could tell he was pleased at the prospect of not having to hide his relationship in his own home and it pleased her in turn. She briefly wondered how difficult it must have been for him growing up, being taught that what was natural and normal to him was shameful and deviant. Then, recalling her life in the Circle, she realised it was not an experience she was unfamiliar with. Perhaps, she thought, it was what had made them so close.

She glanced up from her thoughts when she felt their carriage beginning to slow. Dorian looked up too, frowning.

“We’re not scheduled for a stop, are we?” he muttered, peering out of the window.

“Not for another hour yet, I don’t think,” Evie replied. “Maybe they decided to stop early?”

Dorian didn’t respond, his face still set in a scowl of concern. When the carriage jolted to a halt, he set down the floorplans and reached for his staff, which was lying across the seat opposite. Evie felt a prickle of dread crawling over her skin.

“Stay here,” her husband murmured. “I’m going to see what’s going on.”

He unlatched the door, slipping soundlessly out into the drizzle outside. Evie watched him stride out of her sight. She hesitated for all of a second before grabbing her own staff and following him.

The entire convoy had ground to a halt. She could see the other carriage up ahead, the doors opening as Gereon and Felix too decided to investigate. There were a pair of mounted riders ahead of that and then, spanning across the road, an enormous tree had been felled from the right. Strangely, the stump and roots had been left behind and the trunk bore the obvious fresh marks of an axe. Dorian stopped dead in his tracks at the sight of it and whirled around. His eyes were wide and worried and he looked doubly anxious upon seeing Evie standing behind him.

“What are you doing?” he hissed. “Get back in the carriage, now!”

Evie frowned, opening her mouth to ask him what was wrong. However, before she could so much as utter a word, chaos descended upon them.

About a dozen figures burst from the trees, armoured and heavily armed. They were charging straight for their little caravan and Evie realised with a jolt of fear that they’d wandered right into an ambush.

“Bandits!” a loud cry from behind the wagons sounded.

Dorian reacted instantaneously. With a snarl and an impressive twirl of his staff, he sent out a blast of curling flame that lit up the grey afternoon. The pair of bandits that had been approaching him were thrown backwards, screaming in agony as their skin blistered from the heat.

Behind him, Evie saw a flash of lightning that had nothing to do with the miserable weather. Felix and Gereon had joined the fray and were defending the horses up front with some mighty elemental magic.

Evie’s heart was pounding in her chest and she could barely get her feet to move. She thought of several spells that she should be casting but her clumsy body didn’t want to co-operate. Her eyes glanced wildly around, assessing the situation. There was a man approaching her, a hulking great warrior with a wicked axe and something akin to a leer on his face. He was baring his yellowed teeth and his arms drew back in a swing that Evie knew would mean her death if she didn’t do something. The instinct to flatten herself against the carriage would not help her here so she stamped it down viciously and summoned her spirit blade. Its familiar tingling warmth steeled her and she managed to raise the blade to block the incoming axe, though the strength of the blow did make her stumble. Her attacker did a double take at the sudden appearance of a glowing blade. Evie pressed her advantage, swinging her spectral weapon and carving a deep gash across the man’s collar bone. Enraged, the man bellowed and he swung his axe at her left and then right. Evie managed to block each blow and when he raised his axe above his head, snarling with fury, she saw her chance. Ducking under the grimy brute’s arms, she drove her blade deep into the man’s sternum. Blood of deepest red bubbled up over her hands and up out of his mouth. Her attacker spluttered, his body trying to fight but failing, splattering Evie with hot blood. Shaking, she wrenched the blade from his chest and watched, horrified, as he crumpled to the floor.

It was the first time she’d ever killed and, in any other situation, she might have crumbled under the weight of this harrowing knowledge. Yet adrenaline was coursing through her veins and there wasn’t a second to spare. No sooner had her first assailant fallen, another appeared to take his place. This one was an elf, wielding twin daggers and the grace oft ascribed to members of his kin. He was unbelievably fast and he’d landed two stinging wounds on Evie’s shoulder before she could so much as raise her spirit blade. She cried out in alarm, seeing her own blood blossoming on the fabric of her pale gown. Her spirit blade fizzled out of existence and, in a moment of pure instinct, she reverted to her staff. She managed to crack him once about the face with it, sending him staggering backwards. Then, summoning her mana, she sent out a blast of icy magic, freezing the tricky opponent to the floor. Somehow, the elf looked shocked, his blue eyes widening in pain and alarm. Evie summoned her spirit blade once again, ready to end him, but one their guards beat her to it. An arrow hissed through the air and she let out a cry of surprise as it lodged itself into the bandit’s skull. He slumped forward, her icy trap the only thing keeping him upright.

Panting, Evie lowered both of her weapons to inspect her wounds. They were long but mercifully shallow and she summoned a quick wave of healing magic to knit them together. Her eyes fell upon Dorian as she worked, the Tevinter surrounded by a circle of fallen bandits. The carriage behind him was burning. He was clearly drawing energy from the bodies, healing his minor damages and replenishing his mana. It was the first time she’d seen him use offensive magic and he was quite a force to behold.

She was about to join him when she felt a sudden presence at her back. An arm closed around her neck from behind, crushing her throat and cutting off her air. Her staff clattered to the ground. Evie panicked. She tried pulled against her attacker, kicking and biting but he was clearly stronger than her and nothing she could do would dislodge him. Her spirit blade would be useless, for there was no way she could hit him without hitting herself first. She found herself recalling her last lesson in Ostwick, a little trick her Knight-Enchanter friend had taught her. She’d only managed it a couple of times, but with her life on the line, she was determined to succeed. She closed her eyes, forced her frantic body to calm. She felt the gentle ripple of the Veil around her and she tugged, drawing it around her like a shroud. The painful burn in lungs eased and she heard her assailant cry out in alarm as the body he’d been holding faded into immateriality. She took a step back, feeling the rushing and pulsing of her attacker’s living body surrounding her. Then, with another tweak of the Veil, she dropped the Cloak. Her assailant was blasted away from her with the force of an explosion. He screamed as he flew backwards and slammed against a tree trunk with a sickening crunch. His body slumped to the base of the tree; he didn’t move again.

Running footsteps from behind made her tense and she summoned her spirit blade again, whirling on the incomer with a furious snarl. Upon seeing only Dorian, however, she let the weapon melt away.

“Are you hurt?” he exclaimed, his eyes falling to the blood on her shoulder with obvious concern.

“I’m fine,” Evie panted. “It wasn’t serious, I’ve healed it already.”

Despite her assurance, he pushed back the fabric on her shoulder, inspecting the damage for himself. The wounds weren’t quite fully healed but they were sealed at least and no longer bleeding. Dorian nodded, apparently satisfied. He was sweating slightly and there was a rivulet of blood trickling from his hairline down his temple.

“Dorian,” Evie murmured, and she reached out to look at his injury.

“It’s nothing,” he said, though he winced still when she touched it. There was a gash there, wide but not serious and Evie took a moment to heal it for him with shaking hands.

They were joined then by Felix and Gereon, who were smeared with soot but appeared relatively unharmed. The leader of their entourage also jogged up to join them, splattered with blood and looking grim.

“Everyone alright?” he asked, and was answered with a chorus of murmurs and nodding heads.

“What of the men?” Gereon inquired. “Have we taken any injured?”

“A couple of minor wounds for the most part,” the captain sighed. “Aurelius though… they snuck up on him, put a blade though his side. It’s pretty bad.”

“I can help!” Evie exclaimed, frantically. “Show me, quickly!”

The captain’s expression was not particularly hopeful but he did as he was asked, leading Evie down past the wagons to where the bulk of their men seemed to be situated. A couple of them were being tending to with potions and poultices but one man, a middle-aged fellow with a neat-trimmed beard, was on the floor, blood pooling around him. He looked pale and his breathing was rapid and shallow.

“Move, quickly!” Evie demanded of the handful of people surrounding him. “Please, I can heal him.”

“My Lady, I don’t think…” one of the younger mercenaries piped up but he fell silent at a look from his superior. Evelyn knelt down beside the injured man, not caring for the blood that seeped into her gown – she was already covered in it anyway. She began to pull at the Veil, twisting and twining it into the intricate patterns of healing magic. Her hands rested on the man’s chest and she poured all of her will, every iota of her concentration into trying to bind his wounds. She could feel the magic straining, scrabbling for a foothold, for something to work with. There was nothing. It was too late.

“I… I can’t fix that,” she whispered, turning sorrow-filled eyes onto the fallen man. “I’m so sorry. There’s nothing I can do.”

The man stared at her, his dark eyes full of pain. His lips moved and he choked out something in broken Tevene. Evie made out the words for ‘wife’ and ‘love’ and her eyes filled with tears.

“Come on,” a gentle voice said behind her, grasping her by her upper arms and pulling her to her feet. “You’ve done all you can for him.” Dorian slipped an arm around her waist, which she appreciated, for she was suddenly so weary she could barely stand.

“I’m going see if I can clean her up,” he told Gereon, who nodded.

“Don’t go far,” he instructed. “We can’t be sure there aren’t any more out there. I just need to have a word with Captain Horatius here.”

Dorian nodded and he began to walk Evie slowly to the wagon that stored their belongings. She felt like her body was made of stone, her heart most of all so. All this death and destruction… and for what? It was so senseless.

“I’m going to take a wild stab in the dark here and guess that was the first time you’ve ever had to do that?” Dorian asked her quietly, helping her sit up on the edge of the wagon.

Evie nodded and she was thankful that her husband had disappeared around the corner so he could not see her silent tears. She heard him rummaging around amongst the crates and trunks for a moment. Then he was returning, a skin of water and a small bundle of fabric under his arm. Evie turned her head away but he was having none of it.

“You’re handling it much better than I did,” he commended her, brushing her tears away gently with his thumb. “I believe I threw up the first time I killed a man.”

“When…?” Evie asked hoarsely.

“I was… hm, fifteen? Sneaking around the uglier parts of the city, looking for a bit of fun. What I found was a very ill-tempered fellow with no compunction about murdering a wealthy young man for his trinkets.”

“Oh, Dorian,” she murmured, her heart going out to him. She couldn’t imagine suffering something so harrowing at such a tender age.

“It worked out,” the Tevinter shrugged, as he began to unlace her gown. “I’m here aren’t I? I did what I had to do to survive, just as you’ve just done.”

“I’d rather I hadn’t had to,” Evie whispered.

“They didn’t give you much of a choice, amicus,” he reminded her. He tugged gently at her sleeve and Evie co-operated, shimmying out of the blood soaked gown without so much as a second thought. “Hm, I think that’s beyond help, don’t you?” he declared, tossing the ruined garment aside. He produced a velvet cloak – one of his surely, for she’d never seen it before – and covered her loosely with it. Then he took up a square of fabric, soaking it with water, and began to clean her off.

“Dorian, you don’t have to do this,” said Evie, quietly.

“Nonsense,” he scoffed, jokingly. “I’m not letting you get back in that carriage covered in blood, you’ll ruin the upholstery.” Then, more seriously, he added, “We’ll find somewhere to clean up properly as soon as we can do. Maker knows I could use a bath too but it would be unwise to linger here.”

“We’ve lost a carriage have we not?” she asked. Dorian nodded with a heavy sigh.

“Enemy mage,” he grumbled. “Fellow had piss-poor aim. Looks like we’ll have to squeeze in together for the rest of the journey. Oh how comfortable that shall be!”

“At least we’re all right,” Evie smiled at him, taking his hand and squeezing it gently. “That’s the important thing.”

Dorian didn’t complain for once, merely smiling tenderly back at her. When he’d finished cleaning her skin of blood, he handed her a fresh gown and helped her shaking hands to get it on.

“Come,” he uttered, once she’d finished lacing herself up. “We’re going to need to move that accursed tree before we can get moving. And I could seriously use a bottle of wine after all that.”

“I don’t think Horatius will begrudge you that this time,” Evie chuckled. She hopped carefully down from the wagon and the pair of them linked arms as they wandered back to find the good captain.

 

 

 

 


	17. Parting of Ways

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dorian introduces Evie to the city he's come to know as home.

XV

Parting of Ways

 

 

 

It took a few hours for the caravan to resume its journey. The wounded had to be tended to, the dead suitably shrouded, the bodies of their attackers needing moving to the side of the road and there was the small matter of the fallen tree blocking their path that had to be taken care of. They were moving again by dusk though, the captain determined to put a few more miles between them and the ambush site by nightfall.

Dorian, Evie, Felix and Gereon were all packed into the same carriage. It was cramped and a little stuffy but all things considered, it was hardly the worst outcome of the day. What was concerning, however, was the realisation that Alexius had come to once the fight had been won.

“Not bandits?” Dorian muttered. “What do you mean they weren’t bandits?”

Gereon Alexius’s expression was grave, his eyes flashing orange in the fading light of day.

“I mean precisely what I said,” he responded, firmly. “Horatius and I took a closer look at them after you’d gone to get cleaned up. They were far too well outfitted for mere bandits, Dorian. What was more, the men searched the area before we left and they found no sign of a camp.”

“So you think it was a targeted attack?” asked Dorian. He felt Evie stiffen against his side and she lifted her head, her weary emerald eyes meeting his own.

“Targeted?” she questioned. “As in, someone is actually trying to kill us?”

“Is it so much of a stretch?” Gereon asked with a raise of his brow. “Can any one of us say we are without enemies?”

Dorian knew he was not wrong and whilst the thought itself was not overly concerning, the idea that one of said enemies was making lazy attempts on their lives – and quite happy to accept collateral damage in the process – was somewhat disturbing.

“Well, one thing is for certain,” he postulated. “They underestimated us. Clearly, they were not expecting four mages with an entourage. Their intelligence was poor, at best.”

“This time,” Felix muttered. “Who’s to say they won’t make another attempt?”

“I’d be offended if they didn’t, amicus,” Dorian joked. “It’s practically a social paradigm here, is it not? You’re nobody if someone’s not tried to kill you at least once!”

“Brilliant,” sighed Evie.

“I’ll have someone look into it,” assured Gereon. “With enough ears to the ground, one can uncover even the most tenuous strands of information.”

It was enough reassurance for Dorian, who was more then used to perfunctory attacks on his person by now. Evie, however, still seemed rather unnerved by the whole affair. It was not unexpected. The girl had lived most of her life sheltered in her Southern Circle. Whilst he knew it had been no picnic for her, it had protected her at least from a lot of the unpleasantness of the outside world. It came as no surprise, then, when she kept closer than usual to his side when they stopped for their supper. She was jumpy and nervous when he took her down to a nearby stream to clean up. And later, when they piled back into the carriage for the night, she fell asleep with her head in his lap, her fingers curled in the shape they formed when wielding her spirit blade.

Dorian found himself watching her as she slept. She looked so much smaller from above and he was reminded that she was a good six years his junior, the baby of the Trevelyan brood. It was no real surprise that Maxwell was so very protective of her.

“Don’t tell me you’re actually switching teams, Dorian?”

The mage glanced up and saw Felix smirking across from him. His father was quietly asleep, leaning on a folded up cloak against the window.

“I’m sorry?” he murmured.

“You’ve been gazing at her for the last twenty minutes,” Felix laughed. “If you’re considering making your little dalliance into a ménage à trois, I feel compelled to remind you they’re siblings. That’s pretty kinky, even for Tevinter.”

“What? No!” Dorian exclaimed, his eyes widening in horror, drawing more laughter from Felix. “Evie is a darling creature but I simply don’t see her that way. Surely you know that?”

“I’m teasing you, amicus,” the other man grinned. “Wow, where is your mind tonight? A remark like that would have at least earned me some form of a comeback.”

Dorian shook his head, forcing a smile. “Forgive me,” he sighed. “It’s been a trying day. I was just thinking about what Max will say when he finds out what happened.”

“I’d be surprised if he isn’t on the next ship to Minrathous,” Felix smirked. “He strikes me as the possessive, overprotective type.”

Dorian grinned at that, genuinely this time. “Why my dear Felix,” he purred. “You aren’t jealous, are you?”

“Jealous, of him? No,” Felix scoffed. “Jealous of you? Right now?” His gaze dropped to Dorian’s lap and the young woman whose head rested thereupon. He practically leered. “Oh, yes. Absolutely.”

The Pavus heir had to stifle the overly loud laugh almost escaped him. “Oh Felix,” he chuckled. “I do love it when you’re this rotten!”

“I learnt from the best,” Felix winked.  

*

By the evening of the next day, Dorian and Evie parted ways with the Alexius’ as they headed east for Asariel. It was surprisingly sad, despite the fact that both father and son had promised to visit.

“I _will_ find you a Knight-Enchanter,” Gereon promised Evie, with a wry smile. “A skill that rare deserves to be coaxed to its full potential.”

“Thank you,” Evie beamed. “For everything.”

To just about everyone’s surprise, Felix chose to make his goodbye thoroughly non-verbal. He tilted Evie’s chin, looked deep into her eyes and then proceeded to kiss her until the poor girl was dazed and breathless. When he pulled away, she simply stood there, staring at him with wide green eyes.

“What?” he shrugged, smirking. “It’s a Tevinter custom. Right, Dorian?”

And just to add to the confusion, Felix threw an arm around Dorian’s neck, pulled him close and kissed him too. It wasn’t as long as Evie’s and there was infinitely less tongue but still, Dorian was dumbfounded when his friend of many years broke away, laughing.

“Ass,” Dorian hissed, as Felix turned to join his father, who was watching the scene with a raised brow and a barely concealed smirk. Dorian laughed about it later, of course; his unpredictability was one of things he’d always adored about Felix.

His good temperament did not last long after that. The departure of the Alexius’ also meant the loss of half of their entourage and, at Evie’s insistence, the remaining carriage. This left them to complete their journey on horseback, spending their nights in, horror of horrors, a tent.

“I really hate you right now,” Dorian muttered, as he tossed and turned in his bedroll, trying in vain to get comfortable. “It’s bad enough that I have to endure terrible food and substandard hygiene but now I’m to sleep on the ground like a beggar because of your damnable chivalry?”

Evie laughed next him; she was annoyingly cheerful for someone sleeping under a bit of canvas and some sticks.

“Poor, pampered Dorian,” she teased. “I don’t understand. You’ve made this journey dozens of times before. Have you truly never camped?”

“Venhedis, no!” he snapped. “I slept in taverns, like a civilised person. If there weren’t so many of us, I’d be doing so now.”

He squirmed where he lay, trying to find someplace on the ground that wasn’t gnarled with tree roots. It was a futile task and he growled with frustration.

“Here,” Evie murmured gently, appearing at his side. “Get up, I have an idea.”

Cursing but doing as she asked, Dorian wriggled out of his bedroll, standing as best he could with the low-ceiling. He shivered in the night air as Evie placed her bedroll down first then put his on top.

“There, try it now,” she said, smiling.

Dorian crawled back into his bed and he had to admit, with the extra padding, it was considerably more comfortable.

“Well, that’s all very well and good,” he grumbled, begrudgingly, “but where are you going to sleep?”

Evie grinned and she answered his question by dropping to her knees and wriggling into the bedroll alongside him. There was much squirming and a degree of cursing as they both adjusted their positions but soon enough, Evie had settled herself at his side, with one leg thrown over his thigh. He couldn’t deny that it was quite a bit cosier with the two of them in there. Evie was warm and her presence was comforting. She rested her head on his shoulder and he kissed her hair, letting her know there were no hard feelings.

The extra warmth made him drowsier but the light and movement of the mercenaries outside still kept him from sleep. He had half a bottle of brandy in his bag that he supposed might help but he was too cosy to be bothered moving now.

“Sing to me,” he demanded of Evie, when he could bare it no longer.

“What?” she giggled beside his ear.

“Sing to me,” he repeated. “You have a charming voice, don’t think I haven’t heard you in the mornings. I can’t sleep. Sing me a song.”

“And what would you like me to sing, your highness?” Evie teased.

“Oh I don’t know, something soothing?”

The girl laughed, a gesture he felt as much as heard with her being so close. Nevertheless, she settled herself back down and began to sing. It was gentle, lifting sort of song, in Orlesian, of all things. He didn’t speak enough of the tongue to know what it meant but it was relaxing all the same. He wondered where in Thedas she’d managed to learn an Orlesian ballad and he meant to ask her. Yet the lullaby was working well and he found his eyes growing heavy, the sound of Evie’s voice becoming ever more distant. The last thing he remembered was a feather light kiss being pressed to his cheek before slumber finally claimed him.

 

*

 

Mercifully, he only had to endure one more night of camping before they reached Minrathous. The mercenaries saw them across the bridge and left them at the city walls, handing their belongings over to a small team of couriers. Dorian made a point of hiring a carriage as soon as humanly possible; there was only one reason he’d tolerate his backside aching and it certainly wasn’t from days riding on horseback.

It proved to be an excellent decision, not in the least because of their comfort. Once they made their way through the less savoury portions of the city and into the Gilded Quarter, Evie was absolutely beside herself. She was like a child, bouncing in her seat at the wonders of the largest (and arguably greatest) city in all of Thedas. She squealed – actually _squealed_ – when they passed the Proving Grounds and the Circle of Magi had her all but pressed against the carriage window, her emerald eyes wide with awe.

“This is unreal,” she whispered. “I’d always known mages could be capable of great things when not shackled at the feet of Templars… I never expected to see it though.”

Her joy was nothing short of infectious and Dorian found himself grinning uncontrollably as he pointed out the various buildings and districts. By the time they stopped in front of the palazzo that housed their apartment, his face was actually aching a little.

“Is this it?” Evie asked, excitedly.

“It is indeed, amicus,” he laughed. “Come on, let’s go inside. I’m positively dying for a decent drink and a hot bath.”

Their apartment sprawled over the entire top floor of the building. It was about as spacious as one could expect for an inner city dwelling – unless you were the Archon himself, of course – and he was suitably impressed with the décor (Blessed Age era, precisely as he’d requested).

“This place is beautiful,” Evie sighed, running her fingers over a relief of the Old Gods in the hallway.

“Surely you didn’t expect anything else from a man of my refined taste?” Dorian smirked. “Come, we can have a proper tour later but I for one would like to scrub the filth of the road off my skin before we do anything else.”

“Sounds tempting,” Evie laughed, and she wandered off ahead, her footsteps echoing on the marble floor. Dorian made to follow but he stopped when he spotted a servant approaching: an elven girl with blonde hair and pale eyes.

“Lord Pavus,” she greeted him, bowing low. “I hope you had a pleasant journey.”

“It was eventful, to say the least,” Dorian muttered. “I’m sorry, you are…?”

“Ellery, my Lord,” the elf informed him. “I’ll be your housekeeper. A missive arrived for you yesterday, my Lord. We have been keeping it safe for you.”

Ellery handed him a heavy parchment envelope bearing a familiar hand and his heart jumped in excitement.

“Thank you, Ellery. Would have the kitchens prepare a meal for us? Also, we wish to bathe before we dine.”

“Of course, my Lord,” Ellery bowed again. “I’ll send Loretta to see your baths immediately.”

Dorian nodded at her and she glided off silently in the direction of the kitchen. Dorian’s eyes fell immediately to the letter in his hands and he began to tear it open. It was Maxwell’s writing, he knew, and he had to wonder what his lover had to say that had prompted such an urgent letter.

 

**_Dearest Dorian,_ **

****

**_Forgive me for chasing after you so swiftly but there is something you must know. A letter arrived the morning after you’d left - from a certain Templar. He says little other than he is leaving Ostwick immediately, bound for Tevinter. He begs us to say not a word to Evie, as his departure from the Order will be no mean feat and his path will be, I quote, ‘perilous’. I have no idea what that means exactly but he clearly doesn’t want to give her false hope. I beg you, say nothing and burn this letter after you read it. He says that he will write us again once he has crossed The Silent Plains._ **

**_I hope your journey was smooth. I’ll be with you before you know it._ **

****

**_M._ **

****

Dorian bit his lip, re-reading the letter a second and then a third time before he summoned a lick of flame to incinerate the parchment. So Evie’s Templar was coming to Tevinter? As dashingly valiant as all that was – and as happy as he’d be for Evie should they be reunited - he couldn’t help but feel somewhat worried. What would this mean for him and Maxwell? If this Cullen were to ruin his marriage to Evie, would Maxwell be lost to him too? The thought was almost nauseating. He prayed that the good Knight-Commander had more sense than to come over to Tevinter and start causing a ruckus. His father, for one, wouldn’t stand for it.

“Hey, is everything alright? Did you get lost?”

Evie had reappeared in the hallway, eying him with mild concern.

“Just arranging us some dinner,” he assured her airily, and he covered the still smouldering ashes of the letter with his boot.

“Oh, of course,” she smiled. She reached out a hand for him and he took it, following her lead.  “Come on, then. This bath is big enough for ten and I intend to make good use of it.”  

Dorian forced a smile and followed, thinking about how far a man of honour might go to reclaim his love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *falls down* It's been a bit of a pain getting this one written today but I was determined to do so. A couple of notes:
> 
> 1\. Yeah, Felix kinda had a "fuck it, why not?" moment in this chapter. ^_^ 
> 
> 2\. The song I imagined Evie singing to Dorian was the French version of "I Am the One". Why French? Because pretty. ^_^ 
> 
> 3\. When writing their ride through Minrathous, I could not get that blasted scene from The Little Mermaid out of my head. Where Eric shows Ariel around the town? Hate you Disney. Hate you so much. 
> 
> 4\. Cullen!!! I have been itching to get that golden-haired god into the action. So damn close! For anyone who can't wait, I plan to post a companion fic to this one that runs alongside it. Not gonna lie, it's pretty much going to be filth. ;) I am a bad person like that. Cullen will feature. So watch this space!


	18. Lonely Hearts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maxwell comes to visit Dorian. Evie tries her best not to be jealous.

XVI

Lonely Hearts

 

After spending so many years in the Circle Tower, life in Minrathous was fast becoming the best she’d ever known. Evie had never expected her arranged marriage would be tolerable, let alone fun, but, for the first time in her life, she had freedom, friends and family. It was more than she had ever dared to dream for.

Dorian wasted no time in getting back to the Circle of Magi, something which clearly brought him great joy. The man was keenly intelligent, a born scholar, and Evie loved to watch him as he worked: the way his eyes lit up as he came to a realisation, the way he murmured out loud to himself when mulling something over. She assisted him wherever she could, though it soon became apparent that her theoretical knowledge of magic was inferior compared to his own.

Despite the fact that Dorian wasn’t at the Circle all day, every day, Evie still found herself with a lot of free time on her hands. Her lessons in Tevene resumed, naturally with a different tutor. Magister Alexius had also made good on his promise and located a Knight-Enchanter, with whom he’d scheduled her twice weekly sessions to complete her training. However, even with these pursuits, she found herself unoccupied more often than not. She would wind up in the study, poring over one of the many books, reading anything from complex magical theorems to trashy novellas. She had also taken to haunting the kitchens, getting the cooks to teach her as they worked. Branden, a middle-aged human, and Augura, a pretty dwarven woman, had both been somewhat alarmed the first time the lady of the house had appeared before them and demanded lessons. However, after seeing how eager Evie was to learn, they were more than happy to impart their knowledge. The first time Dorian came home and found his wife stirring a batch of buttercream was absolutely priceless.

“What in Thedas are you doing?” he asked incredulously.

“I’m learning,” Evie replied proudly, showing him the cakes she was decorating. She’d discovered quite quickly she had an aptitude for baking and cakes were fast proving to be her favourite thing to make.

“This is hardly a fitting avocation for a woman of your standing,” he muttered, and he actually looked appalled. Evie merely laughed.

“Why not?” she shrugged. “Everyone has to eat and I’d rest easier knowing that I can provide for myself should I ever need to. Also? I’m pretty good at it,” she added, adopting his customary confidence with a teasing smirk. To prove her point, she picked up a finished cake from the cooling rack and raised it to his lips.

“I’m not sure this is wise,” he frowned.

“That’s funny, because you were singing the praises of little chocolate ones I made yesterday,” Evie smirked.  Dorian’s brows arched upwards in surprise.

“You made those?”

“Mhm,” Evie smiled. “Told you I was good. Now open up.”

Dorian did as he was told. Evie expected him to take a tentative bite so it took her by surprise when he snatched up the entire thing. He seized her wrist and sucked the lemon-flavoured buttercream off her fingers whilst she squealed with laughter.

“Delicious,” he grinned, when he could speak again. “I stand corrected.”

“Ass,” Evie laughed.

“Yes, yes, mine is glorious, I know. Now hurry up with your tinkering, will you? I want to go out and you’re coming with me.”

“So demanding, Lord Pavus,” the redhead sighed. However, she did as he asked, finishing up her cakes as quickly as possible. She liked baking but she liked being out and about in the city more.

All that being said, Evie was particularly glad of her new distractions when Maxwell arrived in the capital some two weeks after they had. He was a whirlwind of fury at first, descending on both Dorian and Evie with flashing green eyes.

“I cannot believe someone had the gall to attack you,” he snarled. “Tell me you weren’t hurt!”

“Our injuries were minor, amatus,” Dorian assured him gently. “Your dear sister saw to that.”

“Don’t even get me started,” Max muttered and he whirled on Evie, looking positively thunderous. “Why did you never tell me you’d trained as a Knight-Enchanter?” he glowered. “Why was I the last person to know?”

“You weren’t the last to know, Max, don’t be so dramatic,” Evie frowned. “Dorian and Felix knew because they’d been helping me train. I never mentioned it to you because it never really came up.”

“I don’t like it,” he scowled. “I don’t like it one bit. It’s dangerous, attracts attention, leaves you open to all sorts of attacks.”

Evie glanced briefly to Dorian but he looked just as much at a loss as she was.

“Max,” she began, calmly. “It was my choice and it’s one I stick by. Think of it what you will but I can assure you I might have died in that raid had it not been for what I’d learnt.”

Her brother’s nostrils flared and for a worrying moment, Evie thought she might have said entirely the wrong thing. Maxwell, however, merely sighed, shaking his head.

“You have no idea how worried I was when I heard,” he murmured. “To know I hadn’t been there to help you… both of you…”

He turned to Dorian then, lifting his lover’s chin and staring deep into his cool grey eyes. Evie saw Dorian swallow, his pupils dilating with excitement.

“I’m no damsel in need of rescuing, I’ll have you know,” he reminded Max.

“It’s true,” Evie smirked. “He could probably kick your arse.”

Max’s expression darkened into something sly. “Good,” he murmured. “I happen to like being manhandled.”

He leaned forward, capturing Dorian’s lips in a greedy kiss. Dorian groaned, wrapping his arms around Max’s neck and kissing him eagerly back. Evie felt her cheeks flush at their passionate display. She’d never really seen the two of them together like this – they’d had to be so careful about their privacy, after all. Watching them now, entwined together as if they simply couldn’t get enough of each other’s presence, was sweet and a little bit arousing. And Maker, if that wasn’t the most disturbing thought she had had in some time. She chose to slip away then, leaving them to their amorous reunion before they got too carried away.

Over dinner that night, Evie learned that Maxwell would be staying for a week. The news clearly delighted Dorian, as much as he tried to feign nonchalance, and she was pleased to see her friend and her brother so happy. Mostly.

“Mother and father have been asking about you,” Maxwell informed her during dessert, which he was feeding to Dorian off his own fork. The pair of them had had quite a bit to drink and they were getting rather giddy.

“Oh?” Evie muttered, toying with her own food. “I confess I’m surprised. After they used me as a bargaining chip in their business deal, I rather got the impression they weren’t much interested in my endeavours.”

Dorian snorted at that, an inelegant sound that was a clear indicator of how tipsy he was.

“Oh they are,” Max assured her. “They’ve been asking if you’re with child yet.”

Evie’s eyes widened in horror and Dorian almost choked on his tart, snatching up his goblet and taking a long drink.

“Please tell me you’re kidding,” muttered Evie weakly.

“Afraid not, little sister,” her brother grinned, as he patted Dorian gently on the back. “Clearly they think you two are at it like rabbits - they’re expecting the news any day now. If only they knew!”

He laughed raucously at that. Evie groaned and put down her fork. Suddenly, she’d lost her appetite.

“Even if we were, it’s only been a couple of months,” she reasoned. “These things take time, right?”

“I wouldn’t worry, Evie,” Max chuckled. “I think it was only a passing inquiry. They have Gabriel to make little Trevelyan heirs, remember? I don’t think they much care about what we get up to.”

Evie wasn’t particularly appeased. Her own parents might not be too concerned about the imminent arrival of grandchildren but she had a feeling that Dorian’s might be, considering he was their only son. A glance across the table at his worried face said he was thinking the same thing.

“Oh come on you two, it was meant to be funny,” Max groaned. “You look like someone pissed in your wine.”

“Forgive me if I find the prospect of having to procreate a little daunting,” Dorian muttered dryly. Maxwell, however, only grinned all the more.

“Oh, come now, Dorian love,” he teased. “She’s quite the looker, my Evie. Would it really be so much of a chore to bend her over every now and again?”

Evie recoiled, horrified. She expected Dorian to do the same but to her surprise, he merely laughed.

“Pimping out your sister, amatus?” he chuckled. “You truly are shameless.”

“You knew that already,” Max smirked and he climbed into Dorian’s lap then, wrapping his arms around the Tevinter’s neck and kissing him greedily. Dorian moaned, his hands clawing at Max’s shirt, pulling him in as close as was humanly possible. Sighing, Evie shook her head and pushed away from the table.

“I’ll leave you two to it,” she called. “Try not to be too loud, will you? I have a lesson first thing in the morning.”

Her lips quirked as Dorian gave her a vague wave over Max’s shoulder. Her brother did not so much as acknowledge her, apparently too engrossed in Dorian to hear what she’d said. Evie headed to bed then, thankful that the room she slept in and the room Dorian had claimed for himself and Maxwell were at opposite ends of the corridor. She did not need to hear what was surely coming next.

 

*

 

Despite the fact that they had a designated room for screwing around in, Evie found herself seeing much more of her brother and her husband than she’d ever wanted to see. She wasn’t sure if they were simply making the most of their newfound freedom or if they were merely that enamoured of each other that they fell prey to passion just about anywhere. Truthfully, she suspected it was a little of both. The pair were all over each other and, as the week wore on, she simply stopped being surprised when she found herself witness to their intimacy.

On the fifth day of Max’s visit, Evie came home from a trip to the markets with Ellery to find them getting busy again - in _her_ bedroom. She’d meant to go and get changed, to swap her elaborate gown for something a little simpler she could cook in. However, she’d opened her door to see the two of them together, Max sitting on Evie’s vanity, his breeches around his knees, and Dorian kneeling between his legs. Her brother’s hair was a wild mane and he was making sounds she had never wanted to hear coming from her sibling. However, more than being utterly mortified by what she saw, Evie was annoyed. They’d promised to keep it out of her room and yet, the moment she’d left the complex, here they were. Huffing with indignation, Evie turned on her heel, making a point to slam the door as she stormed away. She headed for the kitchens, where Ellery was overseeing the preparations for the evening meal.

“Is everything alright, my Lady?” the blonde elf asked, looking alarmed by a rare appearance of Evie’s temper.

“Fine,” Evie growled. “Just perfect. Branden, I’m going to be practising my tarte tatin. Will I be in your way if I set up over here?”

“Of course not, my Lady,” the cook replied. “Please let me know if I can assist you.”

Evie thanked him gruffly but she was determined not to ask for his help. She needed the distraction and, as there was currently nowhere for her to go and smash things with her spirit blade, baking would have to do.

About half an hour or so later, Dorian wandered into the kitchens. Evie stiffened at the sight of him, dressed only in a loose shirt and his breeches, looking thoroughly well-fucked. He sidled slowly up to her, his eyes on the knife she had in her hand as she peeled and chopped her apples.

“You’re cross, aren’t you?” he murmured, and he had to good grace to look a little abashed.

“Somewhat,” she replied, tersely. “You promised me, Dorian.”

“I know, amicus,” he sighed. “And truly, it wasn’t intentional. I went in to change and Max followed and one thing led to another…” Rather daringly, she thought, he slipped his arms around her waist and let his chin rest on her shoulder. “Will you forgive me?” he asked.

Evie sighed and she set down her knife. It was hard to stay mad at him when he was being so charming – she suspected he knew as much too and was using it to his advantage. Truly, she was still peeved but seeing him contrite softened her a little. She remembered what she and Cullen were like in the early days of their relationship, stealing away at every available opportunity. It was a wonder they were never caught.

“Alright,” she agreed. “On one condition.”

“What’s that then?” Dorian smiled, pressing a kiss to her cheek. Evie glanced at him out of the corner of her eyes and her lips curled in a smirk. She leaned in, whispering to make sure they weren’t overheard by Augura in the corner.

“I want you to tell me exactly what you were doing to make my brother scream like that,” she demanded. “You know, for future reference.” Dorian’s eyes widened for a moment before he laughed, squeezing her tightly around the waist.

“You delightful little minx,” he chuckled. “Just when I think I can’t adore you more! If that is your wish, amicus, I will gladly comply. Later, of course.”

“Later,” Evie agreed. “I think we’ll need a couple of bottles first.”

“Indeed,” the Tevinter smirked. “Now put down those knives, will you, and come and get changed? I’ve rather deprived you of my delightful company this week and I intend to make it up to you.”

“Oh?” asked Evie, though she set her things aside all the same.

“I have tickets to the opera they’re showing at the Proving Arena. I thought you might like to go.”

“Really?” Evie couldn’t conceal her excitement. “That sounds fantastic!”

“Your brother didn’t seem to think so,” Dorian chuckled. “I think he plans on staying here.”

“Not a chance,” the redhead scowled. “He’s only here a week, I intend to make the most of it. Besides, he’s had his bare arse on my furniture. If that’s not cause enough to drag him to a show he doesn’t want to see, I don’t know what is.”

 

*

 

Later on, Evie stood at the doorway to her room, watching Maxwell and Dorian retreat further down the corridor. Their little jaunt to the opera seemed to have dampened their lust a touch but they were still very much consumed by one another. They’d been holding hands since the moment they got in the apartment and Maxwell used that grip on Dorian to pull him up close, capturing his lips in a lazy, sensual kiss. She smiled, turning away and closing her bedroom door behind her.

It delighted to see her brother and her dear friend so very besotted with one another. She loved them both and she could think of no two more deserving of happiness than them. However, their loved-up state only made her own predicament so much more dismal. She was lonely, achingly so, and it was becoming too much to bear. Perhaps it was that that made her do what she did next. Perhaps it was the wine that Dorian had been plying her with all evening. Either way, she found herself drifting towards her bureau and pulling out a sheaf of parchment and an ink pen. She sat on the edge of her bed and, by the dim light of the few flickering candles, she began to write.

 

**_Dearest Felix,_ **

****

**_I hope this letter finds you well. Minrathous is as magnificent as you all told me it was and I am very much enamoured with my new home. It seems a little odd without you, though. We’re all missing you terribly._ **

**_I do hope you can find the time to visit us soon. I’m well aware that I owe you a game of Wicked Grace and, since I’ve kept you waiting so long, it’s only fair that I let you dictate the terms._ **

****

**_Do write back,_ **

****

**_Evie._ **

 

 

She folded the note and slipped it into an envelope, though she left it unsealed. She would re-read it in the morning and, if it still seemed like the way to go, she would send for a courier immediately. Asariel was not too far away; she could have a reply within a week. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to say, I've been a little under the weather today so if this is a bit lacking, I apologise. 
> 
> I also felt strangely guilty writing this.It was like double-stuffed envy. Her brother is hogging her best friend. Her best friend is hogging her brother and they're both so loved-up whereas she's lonely. It gets brighter soon, I promise. 
> 
> I'd like to take this opportunity to shamelessly plug the companion fic as well. ^_^ I'll be using it for all the little extras that I can't fit into the main storyline (or else I'll be here FOREVER). So if you fancy it, here it is: http://archiveofourown.org/works/4896244/chapters/11228722


	19. A Friendly Sort of Betrayal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evie is about to make a huge mistake and Dorian has to stop her - no matter the cost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I literally cannot believe this thing is nearly at 4000 views! You guys are awesome. ^_^ Thank you everyone for reading, commenting and giving kudos. I really appreciate it. 
> 
> I'm afraid I'm going to have to veto the daily updates for the time being. I'm struggling to find time to write an entire chapter in one day (kids do that to you). Likely it'll be every two days now and I'll add to the extended cut whenever I can (I'm working on something as we speak). 
> 
> Just a quick note: any dialogue you see in italics mean the speaker is using Tevene. :)

XVII

A Friendly Sort of Betrayal

 

 

It had been a month since Dorian had said goodbye to Maxwell. He’d been ordered to Vyrantium to ensure the patronage of a very old and very wealthy family there and was due to return to the capital in little over a fortnight. It was hardly a long period of separation and it had been eased greatly thanks to the regular exchange of letters. All the same, Dorian found himself missing his lover – and not just the sex, though that _was_ wonderful. There was just something about being with the man that made him feel… complete. Maker, he was becoming such a dreadful sap.

Luckily, he had Evie to keep him company. The girl was putting her free time to good use and her Tevene was coming along nicely. She was by no means fluent yet but she could certainly hold her own in a conversation. It helped that her accent was adorable and often made up for the errors she occasionally made when forming a sentence. Indeed, he had taken her with him to the first ball of the season and, for a Southern barbarian, she had made quite the impression.

Unfortunately, she still insisted on tinkering around in the kitchen, much to Dorian’s exasperation. He had tried to tempt her with other, more suitable past times like dancing or painting but she was as stubborn as her brother. He supposed there were worse things in the world than having an abundance of delicious treats around. And they _were_ delicious.

“ _What in the Maker’s name is that heavenly smell?”_ Dorian asked, glancing up from his notes one evening as Evie entered the study. She was carrying a tray, upon which stood a bottle of wine and two glasses and a platter of some dainty looking tarts.

“ _I’ve just finished them_ ,” the redhead beamed. “ _And I figured, seeing as you skipped dinner, I’d bring you dessert instead_.”

“ _Naughty_ ,” Dorian grinned. “ _I like it_.”

He pushed aside the thesis he had been working on, making space for her to set down her goodies.

“ _So what are they_?” he asked, as he uncorked the wine and poured out two rather generous glasses.

“Salted caramel and dark chocolate tarts,” she informed him, switching to common. “Here, try.”

Smiling excitedly, she plucked one of the tiny tarts from the platter and raised it to his lips. Dorian took a hearty bite and he groaned as the luxuriously decadent flavours exploded on his tongue. The caramel was sweet with delicate hint of salt and the chocolate crème was smooth and ever so slightly bitter. Together with the crisp pastry, they were a match made in heaven and he devoured the little morsel with sheer delight.

“You are a _goddess_ ,” he praised, washing it down with a sip of wine and pilfering himself another. “I rue the day you discovered this little talent. It’s going to play havoc with my waistline.”

“I doubt it, you get more than enough exercise,” Evie smirked, prompting a scandalised laugh.

“Not nearly as much as I’d like,” Dorian grinned right back. “Not lately, anyway.”

He sat back down in his chair and Evie plonked herself into his lap frowning.

“Oh please, Dorian,” she scoffed. “It’s been weeks. I’d kill for weeks. Do you know how long it’s been since someone slammed me into a headboard?”

Dorian chuckled, though he couldn’t deny he felt for the girl. Had it been him, he’d be climbing the walls.

“I can help you with that, you know,” he smirking teasingly, and it pleased him when she laughed.

“Shut up, you couldn’t handle this and you know it,” she shot right back and she shoved another tart in his mouth before he could so much as snigger.

“You’re trying to make me fat aren’t you?” he accused, when he could speak again. “I know your type, fatten up your husbands so no-one else wants them.”

“Nonsense, you’d still look adorable even with a little weight on you,” Evie grinned, pinching his cheeks. “Besides, I don’t think that kind of scheme works when said husband is already routinely screwing said wife’s brother.”

“Perhaps not,” Dorian conceded with a grin. Evie smiled right back and she laid her head against his shoulder, swirling her wine glass thoughtfully in one hand.

“Does he make you happy, Dorian?” she asked, softly. “I mean, like, really happy, not just ‘the sex is awesome’ happy?”

“He does,” the Tevinter smiled. “Disgustingly happy. I’ve never known a man quite like him.”

Evie beamed at that, kissing him on the cheek.

“I’m glad,” she murmured. Then, her smile turning sly, she added, “So do you love him then?”

Dorian’s eyes widened at the word. _Did_ he love Maxwell? Perhaps it was a little soon to be using that particular term but he couldn’t deny it was heading down that path. It surprised him but he supposed it shouldn’t have: Max was very lovable.

“I’m going to take that as a yes,” Evie laughed.

“Take it as you will,” Dorian replied. “We’ve not discussed that word yet so I shan’t discuss it now.”

“Spoilsport,” muttered Evie, and he chuckled, kissing her on the forehead.

 

*

 

The end of Parvulis brought a familiar face to their new home. Dorian was surprised but pleased to hear that Felix would be in the capital and naturally extended an invitation to him to stay with them. He didn’t entirely expect his old friend to be so expedient in taking him up on it, however.

He arrived just days after Dorian’s last letter. The Pavus heir was returning home after a particularly trying day of debates in the Lower Circle. He expected to find Evie waiting for him with a glass of wine and her latest culinary delight, as was becoming their custom. What he found was her sitting on the sofa beside Felix, a smile on her face and an almost predatory gleam in her eyes.

“ _Dorian!_ ” she exclaimed, beaming, when she noticed him standing there. “ _Look who’s here!_ ”

Felix turned to grin at him, a slight blush on his cheekbones, and Dorian went to embrace his friend.

“It’s good to see you again,” he said, forcing a smile in spite of his surprise. “I wasn’t expecting you to be here so soon.”

“How could I possibly stay away?” smirked Felix, his gaze lingering on the woman standing behind Dorian. Dorian got the distinct impression he was missing something.

Nevertheless, after a quick refresh and change of clothes, Dorian joined his wife and his friend for a pleasant dinner.

“So how is life back at the Circle?” Felix asked over their main course. “Clawed your way to the top yet?”

“My brilliance is not going unrecognised,” replied Dorian with a smirk. “There are plenty of rumours floating around of my impending promotion.”

“It won’t be long,” Evie smiled, with a pride that he found more than a little touching. “They all adore you.”

“Of course they do! Have you met me? I’m a delight.”

“Have you ever thought of sponsoring Evie to take the exams?” Felix asked, prompting a burst of laughter from the woman.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Felix, I couldn’t do what he does,” she scoffed. “I have neither the talent nor the status.”

Felix frowned. “You sell yourself short, Evie,” he murmured, “Even Father said you have the potential to be exceptional with the right training. They’d be lucky to have you.”

Evie flushed prettily over the rim over her wine glass and Dorian’s eyes widened. Was this them flirting? Maker, he’d need a tome to list all the reasons that this was a bad idea. He tried to catch Evie’s eyes, to warn her silently somehow, but the girl was looking coyly at her plate.

“You’re sweet,” she murmured. “But I think you give me entirely too much credit. Besides,” she added, glancing up at him with a smirk, “I see enough of _him_ here. We don’t need to spend every waking hour in each other’s company.”

Felix looked his way and Dorian played along, feigning offence. “You wound me, my love,” he sniffed. “You adore my company and you know it.”

“I do,” Evie teased. “Perhaps too much. All the more reason to keep some distance between us. I don’t think I could control myself.”

“Mmm, I’d never get any work done,” Dorian grinned. “Think of the scandal.”

Felix pulled a face as they both laughed. “You two are revolting,” he groaned. “Seriously, how does Maxwell stand it?”

“He usually joins in,” admitted Evie with a wink.

“Interesting,” Felix smirked. “I had no idea you were so kinky, Lady Trevelyan.” His eyes smouldered across the table at her and Evie blushed again, her lips curved in obvious delight.

They continued in such a manner for the rest of the meal. Truthfully, it was rather uncomfortable to witness. Dorian began to wonder if this was how Evie had felt when Max had last been here or if it was simply because he knew these two shouldn’t be together. Not only that but seeing Evie smiling at Felix like that, gazing at him through her long lashes, made his stomach twist uncomfortably. Apparently, Max’s overprotective nature was rubbing off on him, curse him.

After dinner, Felix made some terribly suggestive comment about a round of Wicked Grace and Dorian felt forced to intervene.

“Evie, love, could I just borrow you for a moment?” he requested, seizing her by the hand and dragging her off towards the study before she could decline. “We’ll be quick, amicus,” he called back at Felix, who was watching them with a bemused expression on his face. “Try the brandy in the meantime. It’s to die for.”

“Dorian,” Evie laughed, as he bundled her through the doors to the study. “What’s this about?”

The Tevinter closed the doors behind them, lighting a few lamps with an absent wave of his hand.

“You can’t do this,” he sighed.

“I’m sorry,” Evie frowned. “I can’t do what, exactly?”

“Amicus, I know what you’re planning,” muttered Dorian, “and you just can’t.”

Evie raised a brow, looking suddenly stern, and not for the first time, he was surprised that such a gentle, carefree woman could appear so intimidating.

“Have you forgotten what you said to me in Carastes?” he reminded her. “I adore you, Evie, and I understand why you’re doing this. But Felix is my friend too and I can’t see him get hurt.”

A little of Evie’s prickly aura faded and her expression became a little sheepish.

“It’s ok, he knows about that and he knows what to expect,” she assured him. “He’s fine with it.”

“He knows?” Dorian frowned. “How does he know?”

“We’ve been writing each other since Max was last here,” the redhead confessed and Dorian’s eyes widened in surprise.

“You’ve been planning this!” he accused. “You knew he was going to come!”

“I had an inkling,” Evie shrugged. “I wasn’t sure when, he said he had a few things to take care of. Are you mad?”

Dorian laughed softly, shaking his head. He wasn’t mad. If anything, he was a little impressed. He had no idea innocent little Evie could be so conniving. It was a very interesting side to her.

“I’m not mad,” he told her gently. “But I can’t let you do this Evie. It isn’t fair.”

“Why not?” Evie scowled. “Felix knows it’s just a mercy fuck and he doesn’t care! Why should you?”

“Because you’ll regret it,” he promised her.

“I really don’t think I will,” she snorted. She side-stepped around him and she was marching for the door when he called out to her.

“Evie, Max wrote to Cullen.”

The girl froze where she stood, hand on the doorknob. Slowly, she turned around and her face was a picture of shock and anger.

“What?” she hissed. Dorian sighed, his fingers clenching and unclenching at his side in discomfort. He really hadn’t wanted it to come to this but he couldn’t let her ruin her chance with her Templar, not for a quick lay.

“Your brother wrote to Cullen in Ostwick,” he explained slowly. “He told him that you hadn’t left him out of choice and that your marriage was just a transaction arranged by both of our families. He’s… on his way to Tevinter as we speak. He clearly still loves you, Evie.”

Evie’s eyes widened and she leant back against the door as though she could barely support herself to stand.

“He wrote to Cullen?” she whispered. “And Cullen wrote back?” Dorian nodded, his stomach twisting in nervous knots, and she whirled on him, her fury explosive. “And you knew!” she shouted. “All this time, you knew and you didn’t tell me!”

“Cullen begged us not to,” Dorian tried to explain. “He didn’t want you hurt if something happened and he never made it!”

Evie let out a disbelieving, nigh-hysterical laugh, her hands running through her hair distractedly. “You knew how much he meant to me,” she said, and to Dorian’s absolute horror, he heard her voice crack. Sure enough, when she glanced back his way, there were tears in her eyes and it just about broke his heart. “If there was the slightest hope… Dorian, why didn’t you tell me?”

“Amicus, I swear, we were trying to protect you,” he promised, and he could feel his throat burning, his eyes growing wet with tears of his own. “We haven’t heard from him in weeks.”

She made a little choked sound then, something like a sob that was quickly reigned in. “I want to see the letters,” she whispered. “I want to see what he said.”

“I don’t have them, love,” Dorian admitted. “I’ve never even seen them, only your brother has.”

She snorted at that, her face contorting in anger once more. “Of course,” she sneered. “Max has been so very helpful lately, hasn’t he? What the hell was he thinking?” she shouted suddenly and the flames in the oil lamps flickered and fizzled as her magic flared.

“I think he was only trying to make you happy,” Dorian reasoned, taking a tentative step towards her. She shrunk back, eyes narrowed in rage.

“Don’t!” she hissed. “I don’t want to hear it! Maker, he could be dead, this is exactly what I didn’t want to happen! He was supposed to stay in Ostwick where it was safe! Damn it, how could you?!”

“Evie,” Dorian pleaded. Tears were streaming down her face and it pained him to think he had had some part in causing them. He tried reaching out for her hand again but she snatched it away.

“Don’t,” she whispered again. “Just don’t. I can’t even stand to look at you right now.”

Her words were like a knife, sticking him straight in the gut, and he screwed his eyes shut against the pain. How many times had he heard his father say such a thing? _‘You disgust me. I can’t bear to look at you.’_ It made him feel physically sick to hear it coming from her. What was worse, he knew he deserved it this time. He opened his eyes, ready to beg for her forgiveness but she was already gone, the door to the study left open in her haste.

Dorian let out a little shuddering gasp and a couple of tears leaked from his eyes, trailing hot and week down his cheeks. Venhedis, had he fucked up. He had never seen her so mad, not even after the fiasco with Caius and her brother. What had they done?

“Dorian?”

Felix peered around the edge of the open door, his expression concerned. He was across the room in seconds when he saw Dorian’s state, drawing him into a strong embrace.

“What happened?” he asked, softly. “I just saw Evie and she looked like she was crying. She wouldn’t stop to talk to me. Did you two have an argument?”

“Felix,” Dorian sighed, dashing away the wetness at the corners of his eyes. “I’m so sorry, this is such a dreadful mess and you’ve gone and gotten stuck in the middle of it.” He explained briefly about Evie’s former lover and how her brother had endeavoured to get them back together. “She had no idea, of course, and she’s livid I kept it from her,” he whispered. “Had I know she was planning for you two to…”

“It’s alright,” Felix muttered, and he stepped back, allowing Dorian a moment to compose himself. “I’m not going to lie, I’m a bit disappointed but these things happen. Are you ok?”

“Not really,” the other mage admitted. “I’ve never seen her so angry…”

“I’m sure she’ll calm down,” said Felix reasonably. “Give her a little time.”

Dorian nodded, hoping he was right. “I need a drink,” he murmured.

“I’ve barely touched that brandy,” Felix responded. “Want to go drown our sorrows?”

Dorian managed a self-depreacting smile. “It’ll be just like old times,” he said. “We’re just missing a brothel and your father to drag us out of trouble.”

Felix snorted at that. “The night is young, yet,” he reminded him.

 

*

 

It was well past midnight when Dorian thought to step away from the bottle. Felix had gone to bed an hour ago but he’d stayed up to keep drinking. He was drunker than he’d been in some time. He couldn’t walk straight. His vision swam whenever he so much as blinked and the churning in his stomach told him he’d be vomiting before long.

He didn’t care. He deserved it. He needed it, needed to feel as bad physically as he did in his heart. Evie was his friend – one of a very small number – and he’d hurt her. After everything she’d done for him. He hadn’t meant to, of course, but that didn’t make it any easier to bear.  He owed her a massive apology.

Deciding there was no time like the present, he wandered out of the Great Room and made for their bedroom. It was easier said than done. He barely made it five paces at a time before he careered into a column or a wall or stumbled over a carpet. Being on his feet only made him more nauseous and he knew he’d have to find a chamber pot soon or else risk throwing up on his much loved furnishings. Somehow he made it to the door without doing himself a serious injury. He reached for the handle and pushed only to find it locked from the inside. His heart sank like a stone in his chest.

“Evie?” he called, softly, leaning on the cool wood. “Amicus, let me in.” 

There was nothing, silence his only response. She had never shut him out like this, ever. How much must she truly detest him right now?

Sighing, Dorian moved away. He was half tempted to sleep outside the door but he’d only trip her up in the morning and piss her off more. Plus, he really, really needed to throw up. So he carried on down the corridor, making his way to the empty room he usually shared with Max. It was dark and a little chilly inside but he couldn’t be bothered to light a fire or even a candle. He simply stumbled over to bed, flopping down fully dressed on the mattress and groaning at the way the room span. It was too much for his stomach. He only just managed to lean over the bed in time to vomit into the waiting chamber pot. His throat burned from the brandy. His eyes watered as he tried in vain to draw in breath and empty his stomach at the same time. He pulled a muscle retching so hard but he paid it no mind. It was his fault. He deserved this.

 


	20. Calm After the Storm - Part One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A letter from a certain Templar prompts Evie to make amends with Dorian.

XVIII

Calm After the Storm - Part One

 

**My dearest Evelyn,**

**I do not know where to begin. A part of me is hoping you never even got my last letter, so you wouldn’t know how stupid I’ve been. I suppose I should begin by saying I’m sorry. I never should have doubted you – never should have doubted _us_. **

**Your brother wrote me several weeks ago. He told me everything, Evie, and I swear, I don’t know how I didn’t see it sooner. I should have known you would never up and marry a Tevinter magister of your own free will. I was just so stricken by your departure. Why didn’t you tell me? Yes, I know, you feared for me and my position and I adore you for that. But do you honestly think my job was ever more important to me than you? If so, you severely underestimate how much I love you. As for the danger? Let them come. Let them try. I would rather die attempting to be with you than face a life without you by side.**

**You will note my use of the past tense when referring to my job. I am no longer Knight Commander of Ostwick. I resigned, Evie, something I should have done the moment you disappeared. Ser Barris is due to take over my role and I am confident he will do it admirably. He is a good man; the mages of Ostwick will be in excellent hands.**

**I’m coming to find you, Evie. I write to you from my tent in the Silent Plains. It’s a hot, arid place, full of undead. Mercifully, the caravan of merchants I’ve joined are well accustomed to the area and we’ve encountered little trouble. I’m told we’re about ten days from Minrathous, perhaps a touch longer depending on how well we get through the Plains. What I’ll do when I get there, I have no idea. Your brother could only tell me you were in Carastes for a month then on to the capital and I haven’t heard from him since. Still, if I have to knock on every door in Minrathous to find you, I will. I’d never forgive myself if I do anything less.**

**I send this letter with a group of messengers who are going on ahead of us. It should arrive well before I do. I pray you stay safe until then. Max tells me your husband is a good man and, I confess, knowing this is the only reason I get any sleep at night. You were lucky, it seems.**

**I love you, Evelyn, with all my heart. Maker watch over you.**

**Cullen.**

 

**P.S. – I know you and I know, reading this, you’ll probably be furious at your brother. Please don’t be. I’m glad he wrote me. I’m glad he’s given me this chance to put things right. I told him not to tell you I was coming too so that falls to me. Be angry with me if you wish, Maker knows I probably deserve it. Just stay safe. That’s all I ask.**

 

Evie reread the letter for what must have been the tenth time, dashing away the tears that trickled down her cheeks. He was coming for her. It was really happening. The hand was a little shaky, as though it was written in haste or on an uneven surface, but it was definitely Cullen’s. She’d seen him write enough times, sitting in his lap as he penned letters to recruits and chantry officials alike. Maker, the parchment even smelt like him somehow, as though he’d been carrying it on his person for some time before sending it. It made her heart thump with excitement.

_Ten days_. The letter had arrived that very morning and the runners who had brought it said it had taken them only four days to get to the capital. That meant that Cullen could be with her in less than a week. What he hoped to do once he arrived, she had no idea, but she didn’t care. They’d cross that bridge when they got to it.

Feeling happier than she had done in weeks, Evie folded the letter and tucked it into the sash of her gown. Hearing from Cullen had put things into perspective and she had something she needed to do. It had been three and a half days since she’d stormed out on Dorian and she hadn’t spoken to him since. She’d woken up just as angry and hurt as she’d been when she fell asleep. Any and all attempts to apologise by him had been brushed aside and, for the last day and a half, he’d apparently given up. Evie hadn’t seen hide nor hair of him. When she’d asked Ellery, the housekeeper had given her a grim smile and said he’d taken to hiding away in Max’s bedroom. She also said she’d barely seen him without a bottle in his hand since they’d argued.  Evie could only imagine what sort of state he’d be in at the moment.

Padding out of her (or rather, their) room, she headed down to the chamber at the very end of the corridor. She knocked on the door and, when she unsurprisingly received no answer, she let herself in anyway.

The place had certainly looked better. The sheets were rumpled and half hanging off the bed. The air smelled of stale booze and sweat and the curtains were drawn, despite it being late afternoon. By the light of a half dozen oil lamps Evie could make out Dorian’s form. He was slumped in the window seat, a half-empty bottle of brandy hanging limply in his right hand. He was gazing listlessly at his outstretched legs but he glanced up upon hearing the door. Maker, he looked like shit. His eyes were red and bloodshot, his hair untidy and he clearly hadn’t shaved for a couple of days. Evie had never seen him so unkempt, not even when thoroughly shagged or nursing a hangover. It made her heart thaw a little; clearly he felt bad for what had transpired.

Sighing, Evie began to make her way towards him. He didn’t say a word though his eyes did widen in something like alarm, as though he was half expecting another angry tirade from her. She didn’t shout, however. She merely climbed into his lap, noting the way he stiffened at the contact, and wrapped her arms around his neck. Dorian melted against her

“I don’t want to fight anymore,” she murmured. “I’m still not happy about what you two did but I love you and I forgive you.”

“Amicus,” Dorian croaked, and Evie could smell the alcohol on his breath. “Know that we never meant to hurt you or your Templar. All we wanted-”

“Hush,” Evie soothed, kissing him on cheek. “I know. We’ll speak no more of it, alright?”

“ _I’m sorry,_ ” whispered Dorian. “ _Truly._ ”

“ _Is that speaking no more or it?_ ” Evie chided, though it was a gentle reproach and she punctuated it with another kiss to the tip of his nose. “You look a fright, by the way. When did you last leave this room?”

“This morning,” he replied, defiantly. “To get more drink,” he added, when she raised her eyebrow questioningly at him. “And maybe to throw up a little.”

“Eurgh,” Evie wrinkled her nose. “I think that’s enough wallowing for now, don’t you? Give me the brandy.”

Dorian handed it over reluctantly and Evie stashed on the bureau as she made her way into the washroom beyond. The gleaming marble bathtub was empty but she filled it with ice with a simple flick of her wrist and began to heat it with another. Dorian wandered in as she was swirling her hand in the water, watching lumps of ice melt as the temperature gradually rose.

“What, do you plan to bathe me like an invalid?” he muttered, frowning at the tub.

“If you insist on acting like one,” Evie shot back with a smirk. “Undress yourself, won’t you? I’ve only the one pair of hands.”

“You know we have servants for that,” Dorian grumbled but he complied as Evie fiddled about adding oils to the now steaming water. When she was confident she’d gotten his usual blend just right, she moved back and allowed him to step into the tub. He groaned as he sank into the water and Evie was sure it wasn’t a sound of pleasure.

“How do feel?” she asked softly, picking up his outrageously expensive soap and slicking her hands.

“Pretty awful,” the Tevinter admitted. “No less that I deserve, of course. My stomach aches and I can’t tell if it’s from too much brandy or the vomiting that comes of too much brandy. Both, I suspect.”

“Drinking when you’re upset is a terrible habit, you know,” Evie pointed out. She perched on the edge of the gargantuan tub and began to rub her soap-slicked hands over his shoulders. Dorian groaned and she smiled, rubbing some of the tension out of his muscles as she washed him.

“I’ve heard that, yes,” he murmured. “All things considered, should I not be doing this for you? It seems a little off kilter that I should be the one being pampered after being such a rotten friend.”

“You can owe me one,” Evie laughed. “As it stands, I’m worried you might drown if I leave you unattended in this state.”

“I’m not that drunk,” Dorian insisted. Nevertheless, he protested the fuss no further, leaning back into Evie’s touch.

“So,” she began, tentatively, “I got a letter from Cullen this morning.”

Dorian froze beneath Evie’s hands. “He’s alright?” the Tevinter asked slowly, sounding almost nervous.

“He’s fine,” Evie nodded. “He said he was in a place called the Silent Plains and that was four days ago. Here, I’ll let you read it.” She rinsed off her hands in the tub and dried them on a nearby towel before plucking the folded letter out of the band of her sash. She handed it to Dorian, who opened it out and read it silently to himself.

“Oh really,” he scoffed, at one point, “do all Southerners speak of magisters as if we are the source of all evil in the world? Honestly, I … Oh. Oh my. He’s quite the romantic isn’t he?” He sighing, biting his lip and raising a hand to his heart. When he’d read the entire thing, he handed it back, a strange expression on his face that Evie couldn’t quite decode.

“How incredibly valiant,” he commented. “So is this what prompted you to seek me out?”

“Partially,” admitted Evie, as she stowed the letter away once more. “Mostly, I just missed you.”

Dorian relaxed into a smile at that, leaning back in the tub as Evie resumed washing his chest and shoulders.

“I missed you too, amicus,” he murmured. “Even if you do talk in your sleep.”

Evie laughed and splashed water playfully into his face. “I do not!” she protested.

“Oh, you do,” Dorian chuckled. “It’s quite adorable, really. Also, I can ask you anything and I know you’ll tell me.”

The redhead froze at that, her heartbeat pounding that little bit faster. “Like what?” she asked slowly and her husband grinned at her obvious consternation.

“Oh, allsorts,” he purred. “For example, I know all about what you and your dashing Templar got up to in the First Enchanter’s office.” He made a lewd gesture and Evie’s eyes widened, her cheeks suddenly pink with horror.

“Oh sweet Maker, I did not tell you that,” she groaned, as Dorian chortled.

“Ah but you did,” he smirked. “He sounds very inventive, your Cullen. I can’t say I’m surprised you’re so enamoured of him.” His smile faded rather at that, his eyes cast down. “I suppose he’ll be whisking you away when he arrives, will he?” he asked, dejectedly. “Living out your days together loved up and on the run, like some two-bit romance novel?”

Evie’s eyebrows raised almost to her hair line and her lips parted, mouth open in absolute astonishment. “Is that what you think?” she breathed and it broke her heart to think that this had been bothering him. “Dorian, no!” she cried. Her wet palm went to his cheek and she turned him so she could look him in the eye. “I would never abandon you,” she swore, intently. “I love you. It might not be in the way that I love Cullen but one is certainly not more important than the other. Whatever happens, we’ll work it out together – all four of us. Alright?”

Dorian’s eyes filled at that. He nodded, lips curving in a weak smile, before he pulled away, wiping hastily at his eyes. “I love you too, I hope you know that,” he mumbled. “I know we haven’t known each other that long in the grand scheme of things but already you are my dearest friend. I count myself fortunate that it was you my parents chose rather than any of the others.”

“What were they like?” Evie found herself asking. “The others, I mean.”

The change of subject seemed to put Dorian at ease. He leaned back in the tub again, his aristocratic features pulled into a thoughtful frown as Evie soaped up his stomach.

“Well, there was Livia,” he began, thoughtfully. “We were betrothed practically from birth but her parents called it off in my early twenties after it emerged I liked men. Bright girl, hourglass figure, wicked tongue.”

“So a female version of you, then?” the redhead teased and she laughed when Dorian splashed water over his shoulder at her.

“She wishes,” he sniffed, haughtily. “Let’s see, after that there were several more, the most notable of which was Aurelia – tiny girl, massive breasts. Quite distracting, really. Oh and Claudia, she’s a Magister now in her own right. Killed her father for the position. No one can prove it, of course, but we all know she did.”

“They sound… delightful?” ventured Evie and she smiled when Dorian laughed.

“Who knows, they may well have been but I doubt I’d ever have gotten on with any of them as I do you,” he said. “They’d have hated me on instinct for not falling at their feet, resented me for being shackled to a man who’d sooner cut his cock off than put it in them. No offence,” he added, brightly, making Evie laugh in turn.

“None taken,” she smirked. She handed Dorian the soap and averted her eyes politely as he completed the rest of his ablutions. Even over the echoic splashing of water, she heard the angry growl that came from his stomach and she grinned. “Dinner next?” she asked. “I happen to know Augura is making your favourite.

“Good,” he groaned. “I’m positively famished.”  

“Have you even eaten recently?” Evie wondered, glancing back over her shoulder at him.

“Erm… the day before yesterday?” Dorian admitted, and he had the good grace to look sheepish.

“Max would kill you if he knew,” the redhead scowled.

“I have no doubt. Speaking of Max, have you…?”

“I wrote to him three morning ago,” Evie replied, rather stiffly. “Don’t worry, he hasn’t gotten away with anything just because he wasn’t here. I’ll make sure of that.”

“Just… don’t harm any of the parts that I like, will you?”

“Oh I won’t,” Evie promised. “Not permanently, at least.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't kidding when I tagged this story as having 'slightly inappropriate friendships'. Apologies if you found it off-putting. My real life experiences seem to have coloured my views of the world more than I thought. ;)
> 
> It's going to be another two parter, I'm sorry. What I had planned for this chapter ended up running on for longer than I expected! 
> 
> Thank you as ever for reading, commenting and leaving kudos! I appreciate you taking the time. ^_^


	21. Calm After the Storm - Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evie gets a visit from her mother-in-law and it's hardly a pleasant affair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes: I feel compelled to add a *********warning ********* to this chapter. The scene ahead contains **dub-con elements of a pseudo-medical nature**. If anything about that makes you uncomfortable, please skip the following chapter. I’ll provide a squick-free summary at the start of chapter XX. 
> 
> Also, as in earlier chapters, dialogue in italics is Tevene. Evie isn’t fluent yet so she will switch between Tevene and common when talking. 
> 
> PS - I signed up to Tumblr today. I'm not entirely sure why. But if anyone wants to drop me a message or show me how the bloody hell to work the infernal thing, feel free. ^_^ I go by dreadwolftakemenow

XIX

Calm After the Storm – Part Two

 

 

With their friendship repaired, things returned to a much more pleasant state for Evie and Dorian. They spent that evening curled up together, reading and talking, and in the morning, Dorian returned to the Circle in a much more buoyant mood than he’d been in for days. Evie spent her morning in language lessons. After lunch, she took a trip to city’s infamous market, where she and Augura tracked down the ingredients for an elusive Antivan dish she was dying to try out. The markets in Minrathous were like nothing she had ever seen before, spanning blocks and blocks and selling everything from spices to silk to livestock. There had been a stall that sold the most exquisitely carved ironbark staves she had ever seen and, as such, it was late in the afternoon by the time she and the dwarf returned to the palazzo.

“Did you see the nugs?” Evie asked excitedly, as the pair entered the hallway, their arms laden with their purchases. “I’ve heard people keep them as pets in Orlais.”

“They rear them in Orzammar too, my lady, but not for pets,” Augura laughed. They followed the corridor into the great room and Evie almost dropped her things in surprise at who she saw sitting there.  

Lady Aquinea Thalrassian was reclining on one of their armchairs, looking every bit the noblewoman she was. She was easily the most intimidating woman Evie had ever met. She was beautiful beyond belief and she radiated power and confidence like a physical aura. Evie couldn’t quite be sure whether she was in awe of the woman or afraid of her. A little of both, she suspected.

 _“My Lady,”_ she breathed, bowing her head respectfully. _“We were not expecting you. I’m afraid Dorian is still at the Circle.”_

She handed her things to Augura, who took them and scurried silently out of the room, seemingly thankful for the excuse to leave. Lady Aquinea rose from the armchair she’d been sitting in

“My, isn’t your Tevene coming along nicely?” Aquinea responded in the common tongue. She smiled but the gesture did nothing to comfort Evie. It was a calculating thing that didn’t reach her eyes and it made Evie feel like a rabbit trembling before a fox. “It is not Dorian I am here to see, dear girl. I wished to talk to you.”

“To me?” Evie exclaimed, surprised. “I am honoured, my Lady.”

Aquinea laughed harshly. “You can lose the formalities, dear, I am your mother-in-law, after all,” she reminded her and she got to her feet, slowly circling Evie like a predator. “I must say, when I first met you I was not sure how you’d fare in our land. And yet it seems Tevinter has done you wonders. You’re practically glowing, Evelyn,” she praised and Evie was so surprised that she barely reacted when the woman sidled up behind her and placed her hand on her belly. Evie felt the prickle of foreign magic sweep over her skin and she froze. “Hm,” Aquinea murmured. “I thought for a moment perhaps… and yet it seems your womb is empty still.”

The magical sensation retreated and Evie blanched, her heart beginning to hammer in her chest. Was that what this was about?

“Well, these things can take time,” she said, trying not to sound as discomfited as she was.

“Indeed they can,” Aquinea smirked. “I’m sure they take even longer when the bride and groom are not having intercourse.”

Evelyn’s heart skipped a beat at that. How did she know? Her eyes widened and she tried to think of something to say that was neither a lie nor the entire truth. Her mother-in-law merely chuckled.

“Relax, Evelyn,” she cooed. “I am not here to chastise you. I know my son’s tastes well enough. Halward seems to think that your growing kinship will eventually guide him between your legs but I am not so naïve. It will take a little outside help.”

“Outside help?” Evie repeated, and the euphemism did nothing to detract from the ominousness of the statement.

Aquinea merely smiled placidly. “All in good time, my dear,” she assured her. “First I wish to ensure that you are indeed up to the task of creating an heir. May I introduce you to Jovian Marcellus, our family physician.” She gestured to a man that Evie hadn’t noticed earlier, tall and thin, with eyes as dark as obsidian and easily as cold. “He’d like your permission to run a series of simple tests, if you will.”

“Oh,” Evie responded, rather floored by the request. “Yes… of course.” She answered in the affirmative, despite the fact that every instinct in her body was screaming at her to decline. However, in the face of her mother-in-law’s chilling smile, how could she possibly refuse?

“Wonderful,” the older woman purred. “Perhaps, then, we can retreat to the bedroom? This would benefit from a little privacy.

Evie nodded her assent, though she knew she wasn’t really being asked. Aquinea was already heading in the direction of the bedrooms, her physician in tow. Evie didn’t even want to think about how she knew which way to go.

Once they were inside, Aquinea shut the door behind them and, though she didn’t see it, Evie knew she had heard the lock click. The physician – Jovian – headed straight for the bureau and he set down a heavy book and a leather satchel, from which he pulled parchment and an ink pen.

“Alright,” he muttered, without so much as looking at Evie. “If you’d like to remove your clothing, Lady Trevelyan, we can begin.”

“Remove my clothing?” Evie stared at him in horror, a flush creeping up from her chest to her cheeks.

“Marcellus needs to examine you, dear,” Aquinea pointed out, and she was smiling sweetly - too sweetly, Evie thought. “There’s nothing to be concerned about, it’s all very standard.”

Evie wasn’t sure she believed her but what could she say? She could hardly call the woman a liar without, at the very least, causing offence (or at worst, prompting a physical attack she was unlikely to escape unscathed). So she swallowed down her own discomfort and began to strip. Her elegant chiffon gown was unlaced and she let it drop, pooling around her ankles on the floor, leaving her standing in nothing but her undergarments. She stepped out of the dress and stood in the middle of the room, feeling very self-conscious and more than a little embarrassed.

“The smallclothes too, if you please,” Marcellus added, in a bored voice. “We require a full examination.”

Evie’s flush deepened but she obeyed, removing her breast band and her lacy briefs. She could feel her pulse quickening and her stomach was twisting in nervous knots but she was determined not to let it show. This was easier said than done, particularly when her mother-in-law began to circle her, like a bird of prey eyeing up a field mouse.

“Hmm, decent height,” she commented, and the physician began to scribble on his parchment. “Hip to shoulder ratio is acceptable. Nice trim waist. _Lovely_ breasts,” she smirked and Evie had to bite her tongue to withhold a squeak as the woman pinched one roughly. “We’ll have to find you a decent wet nurse once you’re with child, dear, it would be a shame to ruin these. No noticeable bodily defects. Facial features are quite charming. It’s a pity your colouring will be lost to our own, of course, that would make any offspring quite the commodity. But these things can’t be helped.” She turned to her physician then, who was still writing away, apparently recording her observations. “I’m reasonably satisfied,” she declared. “Between her and my son, they should be able to produce quite an attractive brood, don’t you think?”

“I concede to your better judgement on this matter, my lady,” Marcellus drawled, and she laughed coldly.

“Wise of you,” she sneered. “When you’re ready, Jovian.”

The man nodded and he looked up at Evie for the first time, his expression clinical and entirely unsympathetic. “I’ll need you to lie on the bed for this, Lady Trevelyan,” he instructed. “On your back, heels to your buttocks and knees open wide.”

“I’m sorry… you want me to what?” Evie was aghast. Marcellus, however, simply rolled his eyes impatiently.

“It’s a fairly routine examination,” he explained, impatiently. “And it will be easier for all of us if you adopt the position I requested.”

Evie bit her lip and she could feel tears of humiliation burning in her eyes but she fought them back. Silently, she made her way over to the bed, lay down on the mattress and opened her legs, keeping her heels to her backside as he’d requested. She was trembling and there was bile burning at the back of her throat yet she was determined not to give them the satisfaction of seeing her upset. She stared at the wall as Jovian approached and managed to contain her gasp when she felt his cold hands on her body. He poked around her abdomen for a few moments, pressing and prodding, doing nothing for her growing nausea. Then she felt his touch on her sex and she almost heaved. Her skin flamed and she was sure she was as red as the silks she was lying upon. He handled her roughly, pushing the delicate folds this way and that as he inspected her.

“No visible signs of venereal disease,” he declared. “I’ll conduct an internal examination, however.”

Evie’s eyes widened and her hands gripped the sheets just as a single finger was shoved rudely inside of her. A horrified gasp escaped her and two fat tears managed to leak from the corners of her eyes.

“Do try to relax, my Lady,” Marcellus requested coldly, even as she struggled to allow the invasion. “This will be easier on us both if you aren’t clenching.”

Evie screwed her eyes shut and she willed her body to relax; anything to get this over with as quickly as possible. She breathed in and out slowly, trying to ignore the finger that was moving around inside of her.

“Seems healthy,” Jovian remarked. “Cervix is tight, no previous pregnancies.” He finally removed his hand and Evie lowered her legs, pressing her thighs tightly together. “Hmm, fluid is cloudy. She’ll be ripe for the taking in a couple of days.”

“Perfect,” Aquinea uttered triumphantly, as the physician moved away from the bed. “You can dress now, my dear.” Evie opened her eyes and sat up, too ashamed and disgusted to look at either of them. She trembled as she pulled on her clothes and it was only sheer determination that prevented her from crying. When she was dressed again, she sat down on the edge of the mattress, arms crossed over her chest and pointedly looking at her feet. She only glanced up when she felt someone standing before her. Aquinea was looking down at her, a cool smile on her lips and an ornate vial held in her outstretched hand.

“What is this?” Evie murmured, taking it from her and examining the contents within. The liquid was viscous and a vivid shade of purple that shimmered under the light.

“ _Outside help_ ,” the older woman smirked. “A potion, specifically, to stir up the blood. It’s been proven to be very effective, my dear, so much so that the need it inspires will overcome Dorian’s usual inclinations.”

Evie stared at the vial, horrified that such a thing could exist let alone be prescribed by a mother for her son.

“And what of me?” she frowned, prompting a disbelieving laugh from her mother-in-law.

“Darling, we both know the woman’s desire isn’t necessary for procreation,” she scoffed. “My son is living testament to that fact. However, I know your eyes are functional. You’ve seen Dorian, you can’t be blind to his charms. Surely having such a handsome man service you wouldn’t be so great a chore?”  

Evie opened her mouth and immediately closed it again. She was utterly speechless. How could this woman speak about her son in such a way? It was becoming more and more painfully obvious why Dorian was at such odds with his family. Was this the kind of pressure he’d faced his entire life?

Aquinea seemed to take her silence for acquiescence and she patted her on the head, as one might do a dog. “Good girl,” she praised. “It’ll only take a few drops in his evening brandy and he’ll be all over you like a rash. You could try it tonight. You heard Marcellus, you’re approaching the height of your cycle. What better time to start?”

Evie simply nodded, not trusting herself to open her mouth. It seemed to placate her mother-in-law, however, for the woman straightened up, clicking her fingers imperiously at Jovian.

“Well then, we shall take our leave,” she announced. “I have other business to conclude whilst we’re in the city and we aren’t here long. Do give Dorian my regards. I’m certain he won’t be sorry he missed us. Come, Marcellus.”

Evie watched from the bed as Aquinea and her lackey breezed out of the room, as though they’d done nothing less civilised that share a pleasant chat over tea. Only once she could no longer hear the tapping of Aquinea’s boots on the marble did she allow herself to crumble. A great gasp escaped her and she found she was shaking from head to toe, tears pouring silently down her cheeks. In all her days, she had never been so humiliated. Even the worst of the Templars at Ostwick had never been like that, never treated her like some prize mare at an auction. She’d always thought that Dorian’s mother hated her. Now she knew she must do, to treat her in such a revolting way.

*

 

Evie didn’t leave the room for hours after that. She thought about it but she couldn’t bear having to deal with the servants, couldn’t stand the thought of having to come up with some convenient lie as to why the matriarch of House Pavus had arrived unannounced to their humble abode, why she hadn’t bothered to stay for dinner. Aquinea must have known that was she was doing was unacceptable – why else, Evie reasoned, would she wait until her son was out of the home to do it?

Dorian arrived back before Evie had even stopped to contemplate the time. He breezed into the bedroom, calling out for her cheerfully, until he noticed her huddled at the end of the bed, her knees drawn to her chest.

“Whatever are you doing, perched at the foot of the bed like a housecat?” he frowned. She saw him glance around, nostrils flaring slightly, eyes narrowed in thought. “And why,” he asked, slowly, “does it smell like my mother in here? I’d know that overpriced Orlesian perfume anywhere.”

Evie let out a humourless laugh. “ _Because she’s in Minrathous_ ,” she replied, quietly. _“She thought to come by whilst you were gone.”_

Dorian’s eyes widened at that and he was beside her in an instant, looking her over frantically.

 _“Are you alright?”_ he asked. _“What did she do to you?”_

 _“She didn’t harm me, Dorian,”_ she assured him, though he didn’t seem particularly appeased. “ _She just came by to see how we were getting along with the whole ‘making her a grandchild’ thing._ ”

“ _Oh,”_ Dorian stared at her, paling under his golden complexion. “ _Oh dear. I imagine that was awkward._ ”

“ _To say the least,”_ Evie murmured. “ _She brought your doctor with her… Marcellus_?”

“ _Why?_ ” the Tevinter asked, sharply. _“Evie, what did he do?_ ”

The redhead opened her mouth to explain but she found the words caught in her throat, Tears of shame began to gather in her eyes again and she turned away, determined not to let Dorian see them.

“ _Vishante kaffas, Evie_ ,” her husband gasped, seizing her by the shoulders, “ _what in the Void did he do to you?”_

“She said it was routine,” she whispered, voice cracking. “To make sure I was fit to carry a child.”

Dorian’s grip on her shoulders slackened at that and, when she chanced to look up, she saw him looking at her with revulsion written plainly on his features.

“Please tell me you’re kidding,” he muttered. Evie bit her lip and shook her head.

“She had me undress so she could look me over,” she began tentatively. “Then he made me lie on the bed so he could check…” She screwed her eyes shut again, not able to find the words. Mercifully, she didn’t need to. Dorian hand put two and two together and he was clearly not happy with the outcome.

“I should have expected something like this from her,” he hissed, and Evie was surprised by how angry he was. “She always had to take it that extra step too far, every time, with my lovers and now, apparently, with you too!”

“I should have refused,” Evie murmured, more to herself than to him. Dorian responded anyway.

“Evie, I know my mother and believe me, if she came here with the intention of subjecting you to some sick examination, she would have done it, one way or another. Trust me.”

“I can’t say I’m surprised to hear it,” she admitted. “Oh… she gave me this too,” she added, and she picked up the vial of purple liquid from beside her on the mattress, pressing it into Dorian’s hand. He scowled at it, running his fingers over the glass.

“What in Andraste’s name is it?” he questioned, taking out the stopper and sniffing it curiously.

“Don’t!” Evie cried. “It’s some sort of potion. She said it would… Eurgh, Dorian, she basically said it would make you so damn lust-crazed you wouldn’t care who or what you were fucking.”

Her husband’s eyes widened and he look at the little glass vessel as though it were some poisonous beast.

“For the love of the Maker,” he whispered. “If this is what I think it is… Venhedis, I’m not sure which of us she hates more. Surely she must have known what I’d do to you if you gave me this.”

Evie took the vial from his fingers and she tossed it angrily into the fireplace, where it shattered, spilling its contents harmlessly onto the wood. Dorian shuddered slightly.  

“Doesn’t matter now,” Evie said. “You know I’d never…”

“I know, amicus,” he whispered. “I know.”

He pulled her into his arms then and Evie melted against his chest, breathing in the scent of sandalwood mixed with spice and a touch of lyrium, the scent he always bore when returning from the Circle.

“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I’m sorry that you’ve been dragged into my mess of a family.”

“Has it always been this way for you?” Evie asked, tentatively. “Them trying to force you into a mould you were never meant to fit?”

“Always,” he sighed, and it was such a sad sound that Evie’s heart ached. She clutched him tighter to her and pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek.

“You’re perfect just as you are, you know that?” she told him.

“Naturally,” he smirked. “Anyone with an iota of taste can see that.”

Still, she heard the warmth in his words, felt the gratitude in the kiss he bestowed upon her hair. He drew her into his lap and they sat that way for a while, Evie basking in his affection. She refused to let people like Aquinea and Halward crush her. As long as she had friends like Dorian and family like Maxwell, she would keep getting up, no matter how many times they tried to knock her down. She’d never become like them.


	22. The Lubricious Letter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dorian gets a rather interesting letter from his lover.

XX

The Lubricious Letter

 

 

Dorian had had people searching high and low for his mother, scouring the city for any trace of her. He was adamant she wouldn’t leave without getting a sizable piece of his mind. However, aside from the occasional fleeting glimpse in a public place, no one could determine where it was she was staying. She clearly didn’t want him to find her and he had to grudgingly admire her skill in covering her tracks. All the same, he was not about to let her get away with what she’d done to his friend. He’d penned an angry letter to both of his parents, called them every name under the sun and told them that next time they wanted to subject his wife to ill-concealed molestation, they could at least have the balls to go through him first.

Evie seemed to bounce back with a vengeance, determined not to let it get her down. Of course, it wasn’t as simple as that. He saw the way she flinched when she was touched unexpectedly, the way she tensed every time there was a caller at the door. Yet she was steadfast in maintaining that she was unaffected and he helped her all he could. Their newly completed practise room fast became a commodity in this endeavour.

It was late one afternoon and, after an early finish at the Circle, Dorian found himself coerced into another round of sparring with Evie. He was feeling lethargic, his heart not really in it, and the redhead was taking full advantage of his state of distraction.

“ _Venhedis_ ,” Dorian hissed, as he found himself knocked on his arse for the third time that session. Evie stood over him grinning, leaning jauntily on her staff.

“ _Where is your head today_?” she laughed, even as she offered him a hand. He took it, albeit grudgingly, and allowed her to assist him to his feet. “ _That’s the third time I’ve gotten you with the same spell_ ,” she smirked.

“ _Yes, yes, you learnt a new trick, aren’t you clever_ ,” he grumbled, rubbing his backside. There’d be a bruise on his tailbone, he could tell; just what he needed when Max was due home.

“ _Cleary it’s effective_ ,”* Evie returned, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “ _I don’t think I’ve ever been able to knock you off your feet before._ ”

“ _Nor will you again, I assure you,_ ” he muttered and Evie giggled with delight, wrapping her arms playfully around his waist. Dorian huffed, annoyed, and tried to dislodge her but the girl was persistent. He felt the hand that wasn’t holding her staff settle on the small of his back and then the gentle caress of her healing magic as it flowed into him, easing his aches.

“ _Better?_ ” she murmured, pressing a kiss to the tip of his nose.

“ _Somewhat,_ ” Dorian admitted. “ _I’ll be better still when I’m sat down with a glass of wine and one of those delightful little cakes you made yesterday._ ”

He began to steer her out of the room, replacing his staff on the rack as he passed. Evie followed suit, albeit rather reluctantly.

“Blowing off training for drink and sweets,” she tutted. “You’d best be careful, darling.” And she poked him teasingly in the stomach. “You don’t want that perfect figure to go to seed.”

“Oh, I don’t think there’s any danger of that happening any time soon,” he replied, haughtily. “Look at me, am I not the pinnacle of chiselled masculinity?”

He did make a mental note to double the length of tomorrow’s session, however; he didn’t want his indulgence catching up on him.

“What do you think to the idea of hosting a banquet?” he mused aloud, as they walked arm in arm. It had occurred to him earlier as he’d been chatting to his fellow Enchanters that a bit of schmoozing wouldn’t hurt his chances for promotion. And he did so love a good party.

“Sounds fun,” beamed Evie. “Hey, can I cook something?”

Dorian sighed. “You’re a noblewoman, Evie,” he reminded her. “It’s hardly becoming for you to be slaving over a hot stove. Although,” he added, stroking his chin thoughtfully, “perhaps a course prepared by the lady of the house would be an original touch. It would have to be something you could do in advance; you can’t be toiling in the kitchens when you should be socialising with your guests.”

“I’m sure I can managed that,” Evie conceded. “Who would be coming?”

“A few colleagues from the Circle, primarily. I’d invite Mae, of course, and Alexius. Felix. Nothing too large, an intimate gathering would be much more suitable.” They reached the doors to the study and Dorian paused with his fingers on the handle. “What do think?” he asked, smiling at her over his shoulder.

“I’m in,” Evie grinned. “Go on inside, I’ll be with you in a moment. I have some new books in the bedroom, I want to start deciding what to make right away!”

She was practically bouncing on her toes in excitement and Dorian couldn’t resist a chuckle as she disappeared, leaving him to head into the study alone. There was a bottle of wine on the desk as he went in. He poured out two generous glasses before dropping into the awaiting chair with a sigh. The waning sun of the afternoon warmed his face though the window and he let his eyes fall closed. This was much more preferable than practise right now. He sipped at his wine, basking lazily in the heat, and his thoughts turned to Maxwell, as they were so wont to do. His lover was due back in Minrathous tomorrow, according to his last letter. He only hoped they weren’t delayed. Maker knew it had been far too long since he’d had that man in his arms.

Dorian was distracted from his thoughts by the sound of the door. He glanced up to see Evie breeze into the study, a stack of books under one arm and a letter held in her hand. The books she set down with a thump on the desk, picking up the glass he’d left her instead and walking around the desk to join him.

“Letter for you,” Evie chirped brightly, passing Dorian the envelope in her hand. She picked up a book from her little pile and, despite the fact there were other chairs in the room, clambered into his lap to read. Dorian smirked, long since accustomed to her physical affection, and turned his attention to the letter. He recognised Maxwell’s hand and a little rush of giddy excitement rippled through him. Trying not to look too eager, he broke the seal and pulled out the folded parchment from within. It read:

 

**Dearest Dorian,**

**I thought I’d take a moment to write you before I have to head off to yet another hideous party. Truly, father picks the dullest people as his clients. If it weren’t for the fact they serve excellent wine, I’d have told him to stuff his job by now.**

 

 

Dorian smirked at that. Max had threatened such things before but they both knew he’d never do it; he liked being on the road too much. And as much as he hated being parted from him, Dorian would never ask him to give it up.

He read on.

**I should be back in the capital in about ten days time and, I assure you, it cannot come quickly enough. I’m missing you terribly. Syrupy isn’t it? But true, nonetheless. Specifically, I’m missing several parts of you in particular. Would you like to know what they are?**

 

Dorian’s eyes widened then and he swallowed hard. He knew Max well enough to know where this was going and just the mere thought had desire stirring within him. He loosened his collar a touch, feeling suddenly flushed, and let his gaze fall back to the parchment.

 

**I’m missing your arse, love. Your gorgeous, golden, toned-to perfection arse. It is truly one of the wonders of Thedas. There should be shrines erected to that backside. I promise you that when I see you next, I am going to pick you up, throw you down on our bed and worship it. For hours. I’m going to kiss it. Bite it. Smack it. Fuck it with my tongue until you cum all over your belly and then I’m going to fill it with my dick, fuck you until you scream for mercy.**

 

He lowered the letter with a barely concealed groan. Maker, the man knew how to turn him on. He was blushing, he knew, and his cock was starting to harden in his breeches – a fact that was certainly not helped by Evie wriggling around in his lap as she reached for this and that on the desk. Perhaps reading such a risqué letter in her company was not a bright idea.

“Here, what about this one,” Evie asked, leaning back against his chest, her face tucked in to the crook of his neck. She was showing him something in her book but all he could concentrate on was the feel of her hot breath caressing his skin. It was improperly sensual and it only served to stoke his growing desire, no matter how hard he tried to ignore it.

“Evie, don’t,” he mumbled. “That tickles.”

“Don’t what?” she frowned, tearing her eyes from her recipe to look at him. This time, she didn’t miss the way he shivered at her breath on his neck. Naturally, she did it again, this time licking a long line up the column of his throat. He gasped in spite of himself and she laughed, shaking her head.

“You’re awfully sensitive this afternoon,” she commented, cheerfully. “Everything alright?”

“Fine,” he muttered. “It’s just…” He tried to think of a subtle way to describe his predicament but all he think of were Max’s wicked promises and the very distracting weight rubbing against his burgeoning erection.

“Just what?” Evie asked, and she swivelled in his lap, making him groan slightly. Her gaze flickered from his face to the letter and she frowned. “Not bad news, I hope?” she wondered, her pretty face a mask of concern.

“Not bad news, no,” Dorian admitted.

“Then what?” she began and she moved to reach for the letter, her hand outstretched. The motion brought her core in line with his stiff cock and she froze where she sat. Dorian bit his lip against the whimper that threatened, saw the shit-eating grin that practically split Evie’s face in two, and he knew he was rumbled.

“Ohhhh,” she purred, and her green eyes glittered wickedly as she smirked at him. “I see. Definitely not bad news, then. Is my shit of a brother sending you naughty letters? Is he being a tease?”

She rolled her hips playfully and laughed when he gripped the arms of the chair, a groan slipping unbidden from his throat at the delicious friction.

“Don’t,” he complained. “This is weird enough already. Kindly get off my lap so I can go read the rest of this in private.”

“Hmm, read, sure,” she grinned but she took pity on him, sliding off his lap and getting to her feet. “I’ll tell you what. I’m going to go down to the kitchens and bring you some of those little cakes you mentioned earlier. Do you think you can make it quick?”

“Amicus, I’d be surprised if I was anything but,” Dorian groaned and Evie laughed, side-stepping around the desk to get to the door.

“Alright then,” she said. “I’ll make sure I knock, shall I?”

And she slipped out of the room at that, giggling to herself. The moment the door shut behind her, Dorian’s hand was at his waistband, unbuttoning his breeches with haste and freeing his semi-erect manhood from the confines of his smallclothes. He gave it a couple of cursory strokes, moaning softly at how good it felt, how he hardened fully in his own fist. His eyes dropped to the letter once more and he read again, starting at the beginning whilst pleasuring himself impatiently.

 

**Dearest Dorian,**

**I thought I’d take a moment to write you before I have to head off to yet another hideous party. Truly, father picks the dullest people as his clients. If it weren’t for the fact they serve excellent wine, I’d have told him to stuff his job by now.**

**I should be back in the capital in about ten days time and, I assure you, it cannot come quickly enough. I’m missing you terribly. Syrupy isn’t it? But true, nonetheless. Specifically, I’m missing several parts of you in particular. Would you like to know what they are?**

**I’m missing your arse, love. Your gorgeous, golden, toned-to perfection arse. It is truly one of the wonders of Thedas. There should be shrines erected to that backside. I promise you that when I see you next, I am going to pick you up, throw you down on our bed and worship it. For hours. I’m going to kiss it. Bite it. Smack it. Fuck it with my tongue until you cum all over your belly and then I’m going to fill it with my dick, fuck you until you scream for mercy.**

**I miss your cock. I miss the weight of it in my hands. I miss the way you taste in my mouth, how your toes curl when I run my tongue around the edge of the tip. I miss that little noise you make when I swallow it right to the back of my throat. And the way it feels when it’s inside of me? Oh love, you bet I miss that too. I’ve tried so very hard to replicate it whilst we’ve been apart but nothing is good enough. Nothing will ever compare.**

**I miss your mouth, too. That perfect, dirty, beautiful, oh-so-talented mouth. I want it so bad, Dorian. I want to feel your lips on my own. I want to hear you moaning in ecstasy, those little half-formed words you utter in the throes of passion that you think I can’t understand. I do, love. I know more than you’d ever imagine. And I adore them.**

**Are you hard, gorgeous? You’d better be. You’d better be as stiff and wanting as I’ve been for days thinking of you. It’s only fair. Do you have any idea what the mere thought of you does to me? I very much plan to show you. For every moment I’ve spent lately languishing in idle fantasies of you, I’m going pay you back double.**

**I hope you didn’t have much planned for my stay, love. You’re going to be very, very busy.**

**Reverently yours,**

**M.**

 

 

Dorian whimpered at that last line, tormenting the tip of his erection with his thumb until he came hard into his waiting hand. His back bowed in the chair and he moaned Max’s name, eyelids fluttering with pleasure. When it was done, he flopped back into his seat panting, the letter dropping to the floor. His right hand was coated in sticky ejaculate and he took a moment to marvel at it, at how Max, even as far away as he was, could make him spill himself so readily. Then he reached into his pocket with his clean hand and pulled out a handkerchief, wiping himself off. He thought of his lover and how, if he were here, he’d be licking the pearly fluid off of his fingers as though it were molten chocolate. It made him quiver to imagine it and Dorian had to put it out if his mind before his softening cock grew interested once more. He threw his soiled handkerchief into the waste basket and gently eased his oversensitive member back into his smalls.

He was fully righted by the time Evie knocked on the door. He bade her entry and offered her a lazy, satisfied smirk as she slipped back into the room, a platter of cakes in her hand. Her lips quirked in a smug little smile and he knew she could probably smell the evidence of his recent orgasm. Truly, he couldn’t care less. He felt content and relaxed and had no desire to hide it.

“Better?” she grinned, as she set the platter down on the desk. Dorian noted with amusement that she made for her own chair this time but he stopped her, pulling her down into his lap once more.

“Much,” he purred and a wicked idea formed in his mind. He tugged Evie right up close, cupping her chin and forcing her to look into his eyes. “Something’s missing though,” he murmured, in his most sensual voice.

“What’s that?” she whispered in reply, her eyes wide like a startled deer. Amused, he pulled her down and captured her lips in a languorous kiss. She squeaked in surprise at first, trying to push him away, but the moment he slipped his tongue into her mouth she stilled. His free hand trailed lightly down from her shoulder to grasp at her breast, thumb teasing her nipple through the fine silk of her gown. He could feel her resistance crumbling away, feel her little moans and hitches of breath against his lips. Only once he was satisfied that she was truly melting in his arms did he pull away. The sight she made was incredibly gratifying. Her eyes were closed, her cheeks flushed prettily with arousal. Her lips were red and parted and glistening and her breath left her in a great rush. He was chuckling when she opened her eyes, blinking at him in amazement. Then, just like that, she scowled and he was laughing as she punched him roughly on the arm.

“You absolute arse!” she seethed, and Dorian only laughed harder at her chagrin. “What in the Void did you do that for?”

“Call it retribution,” he grinned savagely. “For your teasing. Two can play at that game, my dear amicus.”

Evie made a sound that was half huff, half growl, and she reached behind her. Dorian knew what was coming and he attempted to dodge – as best as he could with her still sitting on his knee, at least. It didn’t do much good and he got a face full of cake despite his best efforts. Chortling, he rubbed his cheek against her chest, rubbing the worst of the mess off onto her dress and making her cry out in outrage. Soon enough, they were both covered in cake and laughing. Evie pressed her forehead against his and she smiled grudgingly.

“You’re cruel, you know that?” she accused, though it was without venom.

“You started it,” he reminded her. “With your little lap dance.”

Her smile turned salacious at that and she winked at him. “Oh Dorian, that was hardly a lap dance,” she purred and he chuckled.

“You’re a bad girl,” he praised. “I bet your Templar won’t know what’s hit him when he arrives. Now, if you don’t mind, I’m a delicious, sticky mess and I need a bath. Are you going to join me?”

“Seeing as there’s cake in my hair, it might be wise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Evie used Mind Blast. It was super effective. ;) *shame* I'll go sit in a corner now...
> 
> Seriously, this chapter went on forever. I get get so carried away with these fluffy scenes! I had planned for Maxwell to return in this one but there was simply no room. 
> 
> Oh well, it worked out: next time he gets his own chapter! Also, CULLEN!!!!


	23. Interlude II - Lover's Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maxwell is about to pay a visit to his sister when he bumps into someone unexpected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because I finished it early and I've deprived you all of Culleny goodness for long enough... 
> 
> Italics for Tevene, once again. Because of course Max speaks it* - some, at least. How else could he talk rich magisters out of their money? ;) 
> 
> *Dorian isn't aware quite how much. Perhaps he shouldn't underestimate his amatus, hm?

Interlude II

Lover's Reunion

 

 

Maxwell strolled down the stairs to the tavern’s common room, his pack low on his shoulder and the key to his empty room twirling idly around his finger. It had been late when he’d arrived in the city last night and, not wanting to disturb his lover or his sister, he’d done the courteous thing and paid for a room instead. That’s what he told himself, at least. It was absolutely nothing to do with the fact that, after her last letter, he was a little nervous about seeing Evie. Absolutely not.

It was approaching midday and the inn was growing busy as he headed for the bar, whistling cheerfully. A young woman sitting with a group of friends scowled at him as he passed and he offered her a saucy wink, grinning when she blushed and looked pointedly away.

“ _The key to room two, my good man_ ,” declared Max, slapping the key down on the counter. “ _What do I owe you_?”

The barkeeper, a stringy youth who appeared to be half asleep, passed him a bill and Max took his coin purse from his belt to dish out some gold. He caught the eye of a gentleman at the bar as he did so and he lost his count.

The man was watching him openly, eyes raking up and down his form. He was tall, broad shouldered and blonde, and from his appearance, he might as well have been wearing a sign around his neck that read ‘Ferelden Abroad’. He was exceptionally good-looking, save for his weary pallor and the grey rings around his eyes, and the heavy stubble he wore only added to his rugged charm.

“Maxwell?” he asked, in a hoarse voice, and the realisation hit him like a fist to the face. It was him – Evie’s Templar. He’d listened to her wax poetic enough times about his golden hair or his deep, caramel-coloured eyes. She hadn’t been kidding when she’d said he was handsome. Given a good night’s sleep and few good meals and Max might have gone so far as to say breath-taking.

“Cullen,” he murmured, setting some money down on the counter and turning away from the barman. “Is that you?”

The man nodded, still staring at him. “Maker’s breath, you have her exact eyes,” he whispered before shaking himself, a slight blush colouring his cheeks. “Forgive me,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck in his unease. “It’s just been so long…”

“I can’t believe you’re actually here,” Max exclaimed. “How in the Void did you find me?”

“Sheer luck, really,” Cullen replied with a heavy sigh. “I’ve been here two days looking for Evie and thus far no-one really knew the name Trevelyan, let alone could point me in the right direction. Perhaps I should have had the foresight to ask you her husband’s name. Fortunately, I was speaking to a contact this morning who said _you’d_ arrived last night and that you were headed here.”

“It was late,” Max shrugged. “No sense in disturbing anyone. I’m headed to see them now though. I’ll take you.”

Cullen nodded eagerly and he all-but-jumped to his feet – a mistake, in hindsight, for he swooned and nearly toppled onto a trio enjoying their breakfast.

“Shit!” Max cried, catching the man’s arm and steadying him. “Are you alright?”

“Just a little under the weather,” muttered Cullen. “It’s been a very long journey.”

“Yeah, no shit…” Max agreed, and he made sure the Templar was alright on his feet before he let him go. “Come on, just take it slow. It’s a bit of a way to where she lives from here so we’ll take a carriage.”

Cullen didn’t protest the decision and, once outside, Maxwell hailed one of the many open carriages that ferried people about the city. He helped Cullen up before climbing into the carriage himself and giving the driver Evie’s address.

“I hope you can forgive my not writing you again,” the Templar said quietly as they set off. “It’s been… arduous to say the least.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Max shrugged. “You’re here, that’s the main thing. Evie’s going to be beside herself.”

Cullen’s lips curved into a tender smile at the mention of his sister.

“How is she?” he asked. “Is… does he treat her well, this man?”

“Dorian,” Maxwell informed him. “His name is Dorian. And he’s a good man, like I said. They’re close and he takes good care of her.”

Far from being appeased, as one might expect, Cullen scowled and his mouth twisted as though filled with something bitter. Maxwell suspected he knew why and it made him chuckle.

“I should add,” he continued, “that he also prefers the company of men so you don’t have to worry about them being _too close_.”

The rapid change in the man’s expression was comical and Max couldn’t resist a grin.

“He does?” asked Cullen and, Maker bless him, he sounded so adorably hopeful.

“He does,” Max smirked. “I can vouch for that personally.”

He winked and Cullen flushed again.

“Oh!” he exclaimed. “Oh, I see. Wait, so you’re… erm… _romantically involved_ … with your brother-in-law?”

“Eurgh, it sounds weird when you say it like that,” Max snorted, pulling a face. “But yes,” he confirmed. “I am. In fact, I’d had my wicked way with him long before he was set up with Evie.”

Cullen’s golden eyebrows rose up toward his hairline and he fixed Max with a look that was equally flustered and disbelieving.

“Maker, what have I walked into,” he muttered. Max laughed jovially, relaxing back into his seat.

“You’ll get used to it, I promise,” he assured him.

They sat in silence for a little while, Cullen warily taking in the sights as they meandered through the streets. Max could only imagine what he was thinking. It had taken him a while to get used to Minrathous after the Free Marches – he’d never seen anything like it before. What it must feel like to a Templar, he had no idea.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” he asked, after several long minutes. In the light of day, Cullen was looking increasingly peaky. His hands were trembling slightly and there was a fine sheen of sweat coating his pale skin.

“I… I haven’t taken any lyrium since I left Ostwick,” the Templar admitted. He didn’t need to say any more. Max knew well enough what lyrium addiction did to Templars and how nasty a thing withdrawal could be.

“Fuck,” he breathed. “Do you need some? I can arrange it. My father’s in the lyrium business.”

“Thank you but no,” Cullen replied, with a weak smile, and it was Max’s turn to be surprised. “It’s unpleasant right now, I won’t deny it, but I want to try and go without. It’ll be better for me in the long run if I do.”

“Yeah, of course,” Max nodded. “If that’s what you want, I respect that.”

They arrived at Dorian’s apartment a little sooner than Max had been expecting. He found himself rather nervous as he disembarked the carriage, less than eager to see if his sister was still as angry with him as she’d been in her letter. He hoped that hand delivering her Templar would make it even somehow. He wasn’t about to take it for granted, though.

He threw both his and Cullen’s packs over his shoulder and offered the blonde a hand. It was a good thing he did, for Cullen reeled again, almost dragging them both to the ground.

“Whoa, are you ok?” Max asked, seizing the Templar and hauling him back to his feet. He was unsteady on his legs this time and Max had to slip an arm around his shoulders to keep him upright.

“I’m sorry,” mumbled Cullen, his speech slightly slurred with disorientation. “I’ve barely slept the last few nights.”

“It’s alright,” Maxwell assured him. “You’re clearly exhausted. I’ll help you inside and you can get some rest, alright?”

The blonde nodded weakly and together they made their way slowly inside and up the stairs. It was a difficult climb for Max. The combined weight of their packs was heavy enough but with Cullen leaning on him, it was all the more difficult. His muscles were screaming in protest by the time they got to the top floor and Maxwell was panting with exhaustion. Worryingly, Cullen didn’t seem to be faring any better: the man was borderline unconscious.

“Stay with me, Cullen,” Max entreated through gritted teeth. “We’re almost there.”

The guards stationed outside the entrance recognised him and they opened the doors, pulling them wide for him. Maxwell muttered his thanks and he heaved Cullen inside. He heard hurried footsteps and he glanced up in time to see Evie and Dorian step into the hallway, their expressions puzzled. Upon seeing him, his sister’s face crumpled with ultimate relief. She made a frantic scramble towards them, tears streaming down her cheeks.

“Cullen!” she cried. “Oh thank the Maker you’re alive!”

“Evelyn…”

Cullen seemed to gather himself at the sound of her voice. He shrugged out of Maxwell’s support, taking a shaky step of his own and pulling her into his arms. They both sunk to the floor, Evie too lost in the moment to notice his haggard state. She had her arms fastened tightly around his neck and she was sobbing without reserve into his shoulder.

“I can’t believe you’re actually here,” she whispered. “I was so scared!”

Max smiled, his heart aching in his chest at the sight of them reunited. He glanced from his sister to his lover, who was standing a few paces behind. Dorian was watching the scene with the glistening eyes and he offered Max a watery smile when he noticed his gaze. Max forced his over-taxed muscles to co-operate and he was beside his love in an instant, taking his hand and pulling him into a tender embrace. It wasn’t quite the passionate greeting he’d planned a couple of days ago but he didn’t mind – some things were more important.

“You certainly know how to make an entrance, don’t you?” Dorian murmured, dashing a couple of rogue tears from the corners of his eyes. “Is this your idea of an apology?”

“Do you think she’ll take it?” Max asked and his lover chuckled, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“I think it will suffice, amatus,” he teased. Max grinned shyly and he squeezed Dorian’s hand, glancing back to the couple on the floor. He could have happily watched their emotional display all afternoon but he recalled Cullen’s weakened state not minutes prior. The man had to be barely holding it together.

“Evie,” he called out, gently, “as heart-warming as this all is, your Templar’s not well. We need to get him somewhere he can rest.”

Evie pulled herself away from the man, gently cupping his cheek and examining his face.

“What is it, love?” she asked of him tenderly. “Are you sick?”

“Tired,” Cullen admitted, in barely more than a whisper. “No lyrium since Ostwick…”

Evie’s eyes widened at that and she helped him to his feet, supporting him as Maxwell had done just a few minutes ago. Her eyes met Dorian’s across the corridor and the Tevinter nodded.

“The bedroom,” he uttered. “We’ll take him in there. I’ll go get the door.” And he hurried off ahead. Maxwell moved to flank Cullen’s other side and, together, both he and his sister helped the Templar towards her room.

“I don’t understand,” Evie murmured. “How did you two arrive here together?”

“Cullen found me at the tavern I stayed in last night,” explained Max. “He’s been looking for you for days.”

“What?!” Evie seemed aghast at that thought. “Oh Cullen I’m so sorry, I should have tried to reach you, told you where to find us…”

“On the road?” Cullen chuckled weakly. “You’d never have found me. It’s ok, Evie. I’m here now. That’s all I care about.”

“Yes you are,” whispered Evie, gazing adoringly at the blonde. He gave her a tired smile, tightening the arm he had around her shoulder.

Together, they managed to make their way through the great room and to the bedrooms beyond. Dorian was already holding the doors to Evie’s bedroom open for them and Max pinched his lover’s backside playfully as they passed. He and Evie eased Cullen down on the bed, where he seemed determined to sit up, despite the fact he was swaying on the spot.

“Lie down, my love,” Evie bid him, soothingly. “There’s no need to stand on ceremony here.”

Cullen shook his head.

“Evie, this is the first time I’ve seen you in months,” he began.

“And I’ll still be here when you wake,” she promised. Max watched her bend down gracefully to remove the Templar’s boots before pushing him with gentle care back onto the mattress. She perched herself at his side, caressing his cheek with tentative fingers, as though she could scarcely believe he was lying there in the flesh. The look that passed between them as their eyes met made Max’s breath still, a tantalising warmth blossoming in his chest.

Cullen caught the hand that was stroking his face, bringing it to his lips and kissing it gently. “Maker,” he whispered, in a reverent voice, “I’d almost forgotten just how beautiful you really are.”

Evie blushed, her gaze dropping modestly, and she leaned in as though to kiss him. A warm hand closed around Max’s wrist, making him jump. He turned around to see Dorian standing behind him, his lips curved in an indulgent smile.

“I think that’s our cue to leave, amatus,” he whispered, nodding towards the bed, where Evie was kissing her Templar with a delicate yet undeniable passion. 

“Yeah,” Max muttered, nodding. “Not sure I need to see this.”

Dorian chuckled and he slipped an arm around Maxwell’s waist, steering him gently out of the room. Once the doors were shut behind them, Max scooped up his Tevinter and proceeded to kiss him like there was no tomorrow. Dorian’s arms fastened around his neck, fingers tangling in his hair. Max meanwhile clutched at Dorian’s shoulders, pressing his lover tightly to him. He only pulled away when the need for oxygen demanded it and, smirking, he peered down to drink in the sight of Dorian dazed and panting.

“Caught up in the moment, amatus?” he laughed, breathlessly. His grey eyes were glittering like gemstones and there was a delicate blush beneath his golden skin that Max thought found simply adorable.

“Something like that,” Max grinned. “I planned on opening with something like that but... you know… Templars.”

“There’s no harm in letting your sister steal the show once in a while,” Dorian chuckled. “Maker knows she deserves it.”

“She does,” the Marcher agreed. Then, his tone turning sly, he added, “So what do you think? Not bad, hm?”

“He is very attractive for a Ferelden,” Dorian conceded. “Not that I ever doubted her taste for a second.”

Max grinned and he slipped his arms around Dorian’s waist, pulling the mage back against his chest. “Think she’d let us borrow him for an evening?” he asked wickedly, nibbling on his lover’s earlobe. Dorian gasped and elbowed him half-heartedly in the ribs.

“Am I not enough for you, you greedy brute?” he grumbled, and Maxwell laughed, pressing soothing kisses to the nape of his neck.

“Of course you are,” he purred. “More than enough. Though I won’t deny, the thought of watching you claim a pretty little virgin like that is very, very appealing.”

“You are absolutely incorrigible,” Dorian sniffed, though Maxwell noted he did not sound displeased by the idea. He was about to press the mage for more of a reaction when the bedroom door opened and Evie slipped out. Her eyes were red from crying and she was trembling from head to foot as she leaned back against the wood, letting out a long breath.

“Everything alright, amicus?” Dorian asked, and he shrugged out of Max’s embrace to fold her in his arms.

“He’s sleeping,” she whispered, as she buried her head in Dorian’s shoulder. “Maker, I can’t believe he’s really here.”

Dorian kissed her hair, as Max himself had so often done many times before. “Come and sit down,” the Tevinter instructed kindly. “I’ll have Ellery fetch us some tea, hm? Or maybe wine.”

Evie nodded and she moved with Dorian towards the great room. However, she stopped in her tracks as she passed Max, staring at him as though seeing him for the first time. There was a moment’s pause and suddenly Max found himself almost bowled over by the force of her embrace.

“Thank you,” she whispered, kissing his cheek over and over. “I can’t believe you got him here.”

“To be fair, he got himself here,” Max chuckled, hugging her back. “All I did was give him the idea.”

Evie giggled tearfully in his ear. She held tight to him for several long moments before pulling away, regarding him with glistening eyes. Her tentative smile suddenly faltered and it was all the warning Max got before she kneed him hard in the stomach. Max’s breath left him in a great whoosh and he doubled over, gasping for air.

“I love you brother,” Evie hissed, her tone suggesting quite the opposite, “but don’t you ever go behind my back like that again. Understood?”

“Got it,” Max groaned and she turned away, returning to Dorian’s side. His lover looked torn, and he reached out towards him in concern. Max merely waved him away. “It’s alright,” he grunted, as he tried to straighten in spite of the nauseating pain in his abdomen. “Pretty sure I deserved that.”

“Damn right you did,” Evie muttered, but she smiled as she glanced back at him, her face a picture of gratitude.

“Bloody women,” Maxwell grumbled. “So fickle.”

He was smiling though, even as a fireball whizzed past his ear, singing the hairs that had escaped his ponytail.

 

 


	24. Kiss and Make Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evie and Cullen attempt to discuss their future but find themselves distracted.

Chapter XXI

Kiss and Make Up

 

 

Evie couldn’t take her eyes off the man in her bed, eyes closed, lips parted, blonde hair slightly ruffled with sleep. Just a few weeks ago, she’d thought she would never be lucky enough to see him again, let alone see him like this. He looked so handsome, so very peaceful, and it made her heart swell painfully in her chest.

She’d been sitting at his side for an hour at least. Dorian had come in not too long ago, telling her dinner was ready and urging her to come and eat something. She had waved him away. Food could wait. This? This was so much more important.

She was right there beside him when he began to stir. His eyes opened slowly and she saw him look at her, saw those golden orbs light up and the slow, sleepy smile spread across his face. It made her aching heart flutter to see.

“How are you feeling?” she asked him softly, inching closer and taking his hand in her own.

“Better,” Cullen murmured. “Still a little tired and I’m aching all over, but that’s to be expected. It’ll ease with time.” He raised her hand to his lips as he’d done before and hr stomach flipped as he kissed it. “Maker, Evie,” he whispered. “I’ve been dreaming of this moment for weeks and now it’s here… it’s even better than I ever imagined.”  

“I know,” Evie smiled, and her voice cracked in spite of how happy she was. “I didn’t think we’d ever get to do this again.”

She wavered on the last word, her eyes filling with tears. She was powerless to stop them and Cullen sat up in bed, hushing her, pulling her into his arms.

“Don’t,” he murmured, kissing her hair. “I can’t bear to see you cry.”

“Happy tears, I promise,” she whimpered and he chuckled, cradling the back of her head. He pulled back enough to look her in the eyes and before she could blink, he was kissing her. Evie felt as though the world was spinning. How long had it been since she’d felt his lips on her own? Maker, he was every bit as wonderful as she remembered. He still smelled - still tasted -like Cullen, although the faint note of lyrium was no longer there.

He made to pull away but Evie had not yet had her fill. Her lips chased his and he uttered the most intoxicating little groan as she captured his mouth again. This time, the kiss was firmer, a little feistier. She let the tip of her tongue tease his scar, as she had done so many times before, and was rewarded with a low hum of approval. Cullen’s hand on the back of her neck tightened and his arms pressed her ever closer to his body.

“We should probably talk,” Evie breathed, when she eventually pulled away to catch her breath. Her heart was racing and she could feel the tell-tale stirrings of desire unfurling within her.

“We should,” Cullen murmured, his face barely inches from her own. In spite of his words, he made no move to stop, pressing swift, staccato kisses against her lips.

“Later,” she conceded. Cullen moaned in approval.

“Definitely later,” he purred and he leaned back on the bed, pulling Evie on top of him. Feeling the hard plains of his body beneath her curves, feeling his growing erection pressing against her thigh, made her lose all reason. They had much to discuss but none of that mattered in the face of the sudden and powerful need that had exploded into existence between them. Cullen was kissing her like he was a man starved and she was the last morsel in Thedas. His hands glided from the back of her head downwards, over her shoulders and her waist to grasp hungrily at her backside. The motion brought her hips flush against his and they both groaned at the delicious friction. “Maker, Evelyn,” he whispered, as he tugged eagerly at the lacing of her gown. “Do you have any idea how many nights I woke hard dreaming of you like this? I was so angry but I never stopped wanting you, never stopped loving you, not for a moment.”

“I missed you too,” she promised. “More than words could ever say.”

Her own hands were upon his shirt, unlacing it around the neck and helping him wriggle out of it.

“Show me, then,” he growled. “Show me how much you missed me.”

He yanked impatiently at the fastenings of her dress and she heard it rip. She couldn’t care less, sitting up and shimmying the cursed thing up over her head in no time at all. Cullen’s heated gaze was like a brand upon her skin. She could see him drinking in the sight of her, see his pupils darkening and feel how hard he was beneath her. He quirked a single brow.

“No smallclothes?” he asked, and the low rumble of his voice told her he very much approved.

“I… might have removed them earlier,” Evie admitted, blushing a touch. Cullen merely flashed her his sexiest lop-sided smirk.

“Maker have I missed you,” he murmured and he pulled her down for another heated kiss. He explored her newly bared skin with eager hands, squeezing her ass, palming greedily at her breasts and pinching her nipples. Evie moaned at every touch, grinding her naked hips down on his clothed ones. She was wholly aware of his rigid length beneath her, so close to where she wanted it and yet not close enough.  Cullen hissed as she reached down to cup it, rubbing him through the cloth, watching with mesmerised eyes the little spot of wetness that bloomed by his tip. “Fuck,” the man gasped, panting. “Evie…” He seized her about the waist and suddenly the world was spinning as he flipped her beneath him. Evie lay flat on her back on the mattress, chest heaving, staring up into the blazing amber eyes of the man she loved. Never had he looked so breath-taking as he did in moments like these. His golden hair was ruffled and his cheeks and chest were gently flushed pink with arousal. She let her gaze drop his crotch and the sight of his cock so hard and straining against his breeches made her mouth go dry.

“Cullen,” she whispered. “Love…”

“I know,” he responded, gently. “Maker, I know.”

He sat back on his haunches, straddling her thighs, and Evie watched eagerly as he unlaced his breeches. He eased them down over his hips, groaning with obvious relief as his erection bobbed free. Maker, Evie’s heart nearly thumped out of her chest at the sight of it. He was rock solid, straining up  towards his belly and glistening red at the tip. Another time, she might have wrapped her lips around him, taken him deep into her mouth and let him come down her throat. But her sex was pulsing between her legs, her own thighs growing slick with wetness, and she needed him inside of her. Cullen seemed to feel the same way, for the moment he wriggled out of his breeches, he was lying atop of her, pressing his cock tentatively between her legs.

“Evie,” he breathed, and his face was so close to hers that the tip of his nose brushed her cheek. “Can I…?”

“Yes, Cullen,” she replied, kissing his lips briefly. “Please. I need you.”

The Templar groaned at that and she felt him nudging at her entrance, thick and blunt and hot. The sensation as he breached her was nothing shy of heavenly. Evie moaned, lifting her legs and wrapping them around his waist to ease him in. She gazed at him, his eyes closed, lips parted in sheer delight. Only once he had filled her completely did he open them and the heat she saw there made her shiver in his arms.

“Evie,” he uttered again, and this time it was an irrefutable growl, the husky sound of a man whose  self-control was fraying. He rolled his hips experimentally, making them both gasp and then he began to take her in earnest.

It was no tender love-making. It had been too long for both of them and there would be time enough for such things later, Evie reasoned. Cullen took her fast and hard, his forehead pressed against hers, his lips parted around a steady stream of moans and garbled curse words. Every deep and powerful thrust of his hips had Evie bouncing against the mattress. She cried out, fingers twisting in the sheets. Maker, she’d almost forgotten how good it felt to have a man inside her, to hear him panting her name as he found pleasure in her body. His hands were gripping her hips with bruising force and he began to kiss his way from her lips down to her chest.

“You feel so good, Evie,” he gasped. “I love you so fucking much.”

“I love you too,” Evie whimpered, though said whimper quickly became a hoarse cry as a hot mouth closed around her nipple. Cullen sucked, tongue lapping against the sensitive bud, rolling it between his teeth. It was such a tiny, localised action but it sent a spark of pleasure straight to her core, adding to the roiling fires that already burned there. He did the same to the other and Evie keened, her passage fluttering as her orgasm began to build.  “Cullen!” His name escaped her in a long, shuddering breath. The Templar groaned and he picked up his pace, his hips snapping into hers with nothing short of frenzy

“Evie,” he hissed. “Maker, love, I’m so fucking close.”

“Me too,” the redhead panted. “I just need…” But Cullen didn’t need to hear what she needed – he never had. He just knew and she whimpered in ecstasy as he leaned in to her chest again. He worried one breast with his lips and tongue, sucking, licking, grazing it with his teeth. The other he teased with a hand moved from her hips. He rolled the pert, rosy nipple between his fingers and it all proved too much. She started to come, her back arching, her lips parting around a soundless cry. Cullen grunted at the sudden tightening of her sex and he cursed over and over as she clenched and rippled around him. His hips bucked wildly. Evie shouted his name to the heavens and he too was undone, spilling inside of her with a long, broken moan.

For a long moment, all Evie knew was pleasure. She was vaguely aware of Cullen kissing her neck, of his sweet words whispered in her ear and his too-hot body draped over her like a blanket. The feel of him moving between her thighs brought her back down to earth and he blinked, looking down to see him slowly pulling out of her. She gasped at the sensation, her body overstimulated. Cullen kissed her, groaning in kind until he was finally out and she could feel his hot essence trickling down over her thighs.

“I love you,” he murmured. “Maker, you’re incredible.”

“I love you too,” Evie whispered and she beamed as he leaned in for a long, lazy kiss. They were so wrapped up in each other, so consumed by their post-coital bliss that neither of them heard the door open or the tinkling rattle of china until it was too late.

“Evie, is he awake? I thought you might want some – oh sweet fucking Maker!”

Maxwell actually stumbled in his haste to get out of the room. A spoon felt to the floor with a clatter and he almost dropped the tray he had balanced in his right hand. Neither Evie nor Cullen had the time to be anything but pull apart. The door was slammed promptly shut again, the spoon left abandoned, and Evie heard her brother dithering on the other side.

“Shit, shit, fuck, I did not need to see that!”

“I did tell you not to go in there, amatus.” Dorian’s voice was rife with amusement. “What did you expect?”

“The man was passing out in the hallway a few hours ago! I didn’t expect… that… not so soon…”

Evie laughed at that, stifling the noise with a hand over her mouth. She heard retreating footsteps and the voices outside grew fainter until she could no longer hear their playful bickering. Cullen turned a bewildered expression on her and Evie just shrugged her shoulders.

“It’s always like that here,” she said, by way of an explanation. Cullen snorted out of his nose, running a hand through his sweat-dampened locks.

“You always had a talent for getting yourself into impossible situations,” he sighed. “So that man with the moustache? He’s your husband?”

“Yes, that’s Dorian,” she replied. Cullen’s expression twisted into a discomfited grimace. “He’s a good man, my love,” Evie promised him, pressing a tender kiss to his lips. “It could have been much worse for me.”

“I know,” Cullen sighed. “And I thank the Maker for that. But you’re married to him Evie. I… I don’t know how to begin fixing this.”

“Perhaps it’s something we should discuss in the morning?” Evie suggested, slowly. “All four of us. We can work it out together.”

“I suppose,” the former-Templar conceded. “Please, don’t misunderstand me. I never thought I’d get a chance like this again and I’ll take you anyway I can have you.”

Evie smirked at that, her lips curving impishly at the corners. “Promises, promises, Knight-Commander,” she purred, and she grinned at the way his eyes glittered with renewed interest.

“Not what I meant,” he chuckled. “But true all the same.”

He lifted Evie’s chin with a single finger and his lips claimed hers in a slow, sensual kiss that had her desire stirring once more.

“Perhaps,” she began, pulling away and resting her forehead against his, “before we get too distracted, I should go and find you something to eat? You must be hungry.”

“Ravenous,” he smirked, and Evie laughed softly, shaking her head.

“I’ll go down to the kitchens and see what food I can find,” she pledged, reluctantly sitting up and disentangling herself from his embrace. “Perhaps a little ale too, if you feel like it?” 

“That would be nice,” smiled Cullen, genuinely enthused. “I’ve not touched a drop in months.”

Evie beamed and she resolved that she would find some even if she had to send Augura down to the markets for it especially. Anything for him. Anything for that perfect smile.

 

*

 

It was the small hours of the morning when Evie slipped out of her room, wearing nothing but a silk robe and a small smile. Cullen had woken her thrashing in his sleep, moaning softly, a sheen of cold sweat clinging to his skin. It wasn’t the first time she’d witnessed his nightmares but they seemed to be worse without the lyrium. It had taken many minutes of gentle hushing, of cradling him close to her chest before he had fully calmed, slipping back into the tranquillity of dreamless slumber. She’d laid beside him for some time, simply watching him sleep. Even now, she could scarcely believe he was by her side. It was like some fanciful dream and she feared that, any moment, she might wake up.

Eventually, she’d decided to get up, thinking some warm milk and honey might coax her back to sleep. She hadn’t expected to find Dorian sitting in the great room. He was wearing only the loose linen trousers he usually slept in and had a light blanket wrapped around his shoulders. A cup of steaming tea sat on the low table before him and there was a book open in his lap, though he didn’t seem to be paying it much mind.

“What are you doing up at this time?” Evie asked, crossing the room to the couch where he was sitting. The Tevinter glanced up and he smiled upon seeing her, closing his book with a soft snap.

“I could ask you the same question,” he smirked. “Shouldn’t you be languishing in the arms of your handsome Templar about now?”

He patted the seat beside him and Evie sat down, curling into his side.

“He has nightmares,” she explained, as Dorian’s arm wrapped around her shoulders. “He’s always had them but they seem so much worse now he’s not taking lyrium. I managed to calm him down but now I can’t sleep.”

Dorian hummed sympathetically, leaning forward and retrieving his tea from the table. Evie could smell the crisp fragrance of peppermint now she was up close.

“What about you?” she asked. “What has you awake at this hour?” She frowned, recalling the last time she’d found Dorian stalking the apartment in the middle on the night, looking for elfroot salve. “Don’t tell me my brute of a brother has been manhandling you again?” she said, disapprovingly.

“I’ll have you know I relish a good manhandling,” the Tevinter responded, with a velvety chuckle. “But no, that’s not it. I’ve merely a touch of stomach ache, that’s all. Lying around in bed wasn’t helping so I thought I’d get up and make some tea.”

Evie frowned at that, looking her friend up and down to check for anything out of the ordinary. “You don’t think you’re getting sick, do you?” she asked, placing a hand to his forehead. He didn’t feel too warm but it was hard to tell with Dorian: he ran a little hotter than most people anyway.

“I’m fine, amicus,” he assured her, brushing aside her concern. “Probably just something I ate. It’ll pass.”

All the same, Evie pressed her hand to his toned stomach and called forth a gentle, pulsing wave of healing magic, massaging it gently into his skin. Dorian sighed appreciatively.

“That feels wonderful,” he murmured. “I really must to learn how to do that. I never set much stock by spirit magic but it’s actually rather useful.”

“It’d certainly save you hobbling about in the dead of night, looking for elfroot balm,” she grinned slyly and Dorian elbowed her lightly in the ribs.

“Firstly, I was not hobbling,” he began, to which Evie giggled, “And secondly, that you know of the more intimate uses of healing magic speaks volumes.”

“You’re not the only one who likes being manhandled, you know” she winked and it pleased her when he laughed.

“Oh, I heard,” he leered. “And I must say, I’m pleased for you, darling. You deserve to be happy.”

“I am, thanks to you two,” she smiled. “And yet…” she faltered at that, trying to put into words the irritating something that had been gnawing at her for hours. “There’s fear there too,” she realised aloud in a whisper. “Like… it’s all so good but somehow I know it can’t last… and I can’t stop thinking about when it’s inevitably going to come crashing down.”

Dorian let out a heavy sigh and the arm around her shoulders tightened. “I’m no stranger to that fear myself, amicus,” he murmured. “In fact, we’re old friends.”

Evie sat up then, turning in her seat so she was looking him in the eyes.

“Then how do you deal with it?” she asked. “How do you make it go away?”

Dorian took her hand, squeezing it gently within his own.

“You keep going,” he responded, simply. “Little steps, one foot in front of the other, until it’s far behind you. Take every moment as it comes.”

Evie bit her lip and she felt herself welling up with tears. Across from her, Dorian’s mouth quirked in a laden smile. He brushed a thumb delicately across her cheeks, catching wayward droplets of moisture.

“Now, now, less of that,” he chuckled, in voice heavy with emotion. “You’ll get us both going. I think, perhaps, you should go back to bed, make the most of having your gorgeous man to warm your sheets, hm?”

“Only if you take your own advice,” smiled Evie, with a tiny sniff.

“Oh, I shall,” he promised. “I’m feeling much better, thanks to your talented fingers.”

“Maker, please don’t let Max hear you saying that,” she groaned, as he laughed again. “Or Cullen, for that matter,” she added, frowning. “I don’t think he really gets us yet.”

“He will, in time.”

Evie hoped so. She couldn’t bear the thought of the men in her life not getting along. She could understand Cullen resenting Dorian to some extent but she couldn’t let them dislike each other; none of this was anyone’s fault. At least, not anyone under this roof.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Argh... I hope that was ok. :/ I'm still a bit 'hmm' about it but I don't know what more to do. 
> 
> If you didn't catch it from the scene, I totally headcanon Cullen swearing like a sailor when he's turned on. I bet he's got a filthy filthy mouth and he knows how to use it to his advantage. >:D


	25. Hatching a Plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dorian meets Cullen properly for the first time and everyone gets together to discuss their plans for the immediate future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Omg, you guys! Just want to say thank you for reading and commenting and leaving kudos! I'm sooo super pleased that someone other than me likes this overgrown plot bunny. Really, thank you. ^_^
> 
> This chapter is slightly longer than usual. The bit that occurs after the break I had intended to chop off and stick in 'The Extended Cut', but the feels were too important! Hopefully you'll see why. 
> 
> As ever, dialogue in italics is Tevene (not much of it this time).

XXII

Hatching a Plan

 

 

Dorian wandered out of the bedroom he shared with Maxwell, leaving the siblings to whatever it was they were discussing. His hand drifted to his stomach, absently massaging the strained muscles there. He was certainly feeling better that morning, that was for sure, though he couldn’t claim to know what had caused his sudden bout of sickness last night. He hadn’t eaten anything out of the ordinary at dinner and he’d only had the one glass of wine afterwards – some fruit concoction that Maxwell had brought but decided he didn’t like. It was a mystery. Still, he felt fine now and there seemed no harm done. He’d simply have to chalk it up to a fleeting upset.

Rounding the corner into the great room, he was surprised to see Evie’s Templar sitting on one of the couches, staring into thin air. He’d clearly cleaned up since his dramatic arrival yesterday and Dorian would be a liar if he said he didn’t look good for it. He was clean shaven and his wavy blonde hair was neat and styled. His attire could do with a little work, of course, but not everyone could be blessed with Dorian’s discerning taste. Even in the simple tunic and pants, he looked very fetching. Suddenly, Max’s idea of borrowing him for a night didn’t seem so ludicrous.

“Well, well, look who’s come to peek outside of their shell,” he said, by way of a greeting. Cullen glanced up as Dorian breezed into the room proper and the mage noticed the way that the other man stiffened, bristling in his presence. He had been expecting this, truth be told, and he supposed it was understandable. Had circumstance been reversed, Dorian was sure he’d feel a bit sore towards any spouse of Max’s. Still, it needed nipping in the bud as soon as possible. “I don’t think we were properly introduced earlier,” he said brightly. “Dorian Pavus, at your service.”

He thrust out his hand and the Templar rose to shake it, albeit slightly reluctantly. “Cullen Rutherford,” he murmured. “So you’re Evie’s husband.”

Dorian waved his hand dismissively. “Officially, yes, but we both know it’s a mere technicality,” he reminded the blonde. “Fortunately for you, I’m much more inclined towards her brother.”

“I’m not sure any of this can be classed as ‘fortunate’,” Cullen muttered, with his jaw set.

“No?” Dorian mused, and he kept his tone as light as possible. “It’s not ideal, believe me I know, but I’m well aware that it could also be much worse. I count myself lucky to be married to a woman who is sympathetic to my plight, not to mention a very dear friend.”

“So I hear,” was Cullen’s ground out response. “Tell me, just how _friendly_ are you two?”

Dorian couldn’t help but laugh at that. Fasta vass, it was a good job the man was pretty because he was acting incredibly dense. Perhaps he wasn’t making it clear enough?

“Oh, look at you,” the mage chuckled, as Cullen frowned. “Handsome, valiant and a little bit possessive: a very attractive combination.” He let his voice drop a touch and he sidled up into the Templar’s space, watching him stiffen. “Evie’s a very lucky girl,” he purred, winking. That seemed to hit the point home. Cullen blushed furiously and it took all of Dorian’s self-control not to fall about laughing. He was just too adorable.

“W-well… I…t-thank you… I think,” he stammered, averting his eyes and rubbing embarrassedly at the back of his neck.

“Oh, the pleasure is mine, I assure you,” grinned Dorian, unable to resist. He inched his way around the little table in the middle of the seating area and lowered himself elegantly into the couch opposite Cullen’s. Cullen sat back down too, still pink to the tips of his ears. The sight made Dorian feel like a wolf stalking a baby deer, not a juxtaposition he was particularly opposed to. Even if nothing ever came of it, he knew toying with this one was going to be fun.

“So,” he began, conversationally, “tell me how the Southern Templar is finding Tevinter?”

Cullen snorted softly at that, shaking his head.

“ _Former_ Templar,” he amended. “I resigned, as I’m sure you probably know.” Dorian nodded but he said nothing, silently willing the man to continue. “That said,” the blonde went on, with a sigh, “taking off the armour doesn’t negate a lifetime of training. It’s… a difficult thing to adjust to. I’ve been on edge ever since I got here. Hardly surprising, I suppose, this business in Kirkwall has riled everyone up.”

Dorian frowned. “What do you mean?” he asked. He hadn’t heard anything significant out of Kirkwall lately. Cullen seemed surprised.

“Maker, you don’t know either?” he breathed. “A renegade apostate in Kirkwall blew up their Chantry, along with everyone in it. Said he was fighting for mage freedom, or something. It’s caused a lot of friction. The Circles are not happy places to be right now.”

Dorian doubted that Southern Circles were ever happy places to be, not from what Evie had told him at least. However, he brushed that aside in favour of the real issue. A Marcher apostate fighting dirty for mage rights? It sounded intriguing. Perhaps the South was not entirely hopeless after all, though he’d have to be careful how he worded that view around Cullen. He’d heard disturbing things about Southern Templars and their talents, and he’d rather not rile up the man any more than necessary.

He was saved the inconvenience of having to censor himself by the sudden and loud emergence of his amatus’s voice.

“SHE DID WHAT?!”

Cullen’s eyes widened at the outburst. They could hear footsteps – two sets, heavy and fast upon the marble – and then Maxwell stormed into the great room, his face a mask of fury, hair flying out behind him. Evie followed a pace or two behind, clearly trying to placate him.

“Max, for Andraste’s sake-” she hissed, pulling at his shirt, but Max was having none of it. He whirled on Dorian, much to the mage’s surprise, and the angry flash of his eyes was unwarrantedly sexy.

“Tell me she’s kidding,” he growled. “Did you mother seriously have my sister molested by some jumped up quack?”

“What?” Cullen snarled, glancing from Evie to Dorian and back with sudden disgust. Evie cringed, clearly not happy at the public airing of this particular issue.

“Yes, it’s true,” sighed Dorian, pinching the bridge of his nose in exasperation “She expressed some concern over our ‘lack of intimacy’. Though it’s not as though she did it at my behest, amatus, so I fail to see why _I_ am the target of your ire.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?!” Maxwell scowled.

“I meant to,” said Dorian, and he honestly had. “But with everything that’s happened...”

“Will someone please explain to me what has gone on?” Cullen snapped. Dorian glanced at Evie, who looked partway between embarrassed and miserable.

“Alright,” she murmured. “Let’s just… sit down, shall we? And stop with the shouting.”

She sank down on the couch next to Cullen. Dorian shifted in his seat, making room for Maxwell, who flopped down beside him and took his hand. He squeezed and the mage squeezed back, showing him there were no hard feelings. Evie leaned her elbows on her knees and she looked determinedly at the floor as she began to recount her run-in with his mother. Her voice was low and without inflection. She gave them the bare bones of what had happened, leaving it to their imaginations to flesh out the details, which Dorian’s did, much to his revulsion. When she’d finished, her Templar was seething beside her and he turned flashing eyes on Dorian.

“Why?” he growled. “Why would she do that?”

Evie attempted to calm him with a hand on his thigh. “This isn’t Dorian’s fault, love,” she said, gently. “Please stop snarling at him.”

“My apologies,” Cullen mumbled. “I just don’t understand.”

“Truly? I thought it was obvious,” said Dorian. “My parents have me married off and now they’re looking for the next page in their legacy.”

“But don’t they know that you’re… that you like…?” the former Templar stammered.

“Men?” Dorian supplied, with a wry smirk. “Oh yes, they know. But they don’t care. They expect my ‘duty’ to come first, as always. And that includes siring the next generation of Pavus’s.”

Cullen looked appropriately horrified. “But you can’t! Evie, please, you can’t honestly be considering this.”

“We might not have much of a choice,” said Evie, and her voice was so small and sad that Dorian wanted to reach out to her. He refrained, of course; no need to wind up the handsome blonde any more than he already was.

“Producing heirs is taken very seriously here,” Dorian explained, squeezing tightly his lover’s hand. They hadn’t discussed this little hitch either and so far, he was surprised Max was being so calm about it. “If my parents think Evie is unwilling or incapable of living up to her marital duties, then the marriage will be annulled and I’ll likely be paired off to someone else.”

“Which I will not allow to happen,” said Evie fiercely, her eyes flashing. Dorian smiled at her gratefully.

“Maybe I’m missing something,” Maxwell murmured, and Dorian turned to look upon his lover, “But why can’t blondie over there just get her pregnant?” The rogue grinned at the Templar, who had suddenly gone wide-eyed and rather flushed. “You can’t tell me you wouldn’t enjoy an ironclad excuse to screw her senseless.”

Evie glanced curiously over at Dorian, her brows raised in hope, but the Tevinter could only shake his head.

“It’d be obvious the child isn’t mine,” he said. “And if my family think that Evie is trying to deceive them with an imposter… well, I’ve heard of similar cases and they did not end well for the woman, I assure you.”

“Why?” Evie murmured. “What happened?”

She looked like she might be considering taking the risk but Dorian could never let her. He’d sooner spread her legs himself than allow for the alternative.

“She was made tranquil,” he replied, his voice only just above a whisper. “I couldn’t tell you what happened to the infant.”

“No,” Maxwell said, even as Evie recoiled in shock and horror. “No way, that’s not happening.”

“It’s why I didn’t suggest it,” Dorian soothed him, stroking his lover’s thigh. “Though I’ll admit, the idea did occur to me.”

He let his gaze wander briefly over to Cullen, who seemed transfixed to his seat, his expression aghast.

“So that’s it?” he asked, incredulously. “You’re just going to grit your teeth and get down to business and we’re all supposed to be ok with it?!”

“I don’t think anyone is saying they’re ok with this,” Evie assured him. “Not in the slightest. Look, it’s not the more pressing matter at hand. Why don’t we agree to take some time and see if we can come up with a solution?” She glanced around at them, her eyes pleading. Maxwell immediately murmured his agreement and Dorian nodded too. He saw no harm in delaying for a few days, perhaps longer. His parents would have to give them a few months before they could play up their concerns. As long as Evie didn’t fall pregnant to Cullen in the meantime, there would be no issue. He’d have to discuss that with her later.

“Alright,” Evie sighed. “Let’s agree to sit down and discuss this again in a week’s time. It gives us all chance to think on the matter and come up with some potential solutions. For now, we have a more immediate issue we need to discuss, do we not?”

She looked to Cullen then and Dorian understood her meaning.

“Indeed,” he murmured. “What to do with a gorgeous former Knight Commander?” And he winked at the blonde again, grinning when he blushed like the sunset.

“I’m not going to lie, amicus, coming home and seeing your mother sitting in our apartment rather unnerved me,” Evie admitted.

“Yes, she does have that effect on people,” smirked Dorian. “Though I understand. I’ve already spoken to the doormen and told them not to admit anyone unannounced,” he said. “Though, if she chooses to force her way in, there will be little they can do about it. As much as it pains me, we’re going to have to be more careful again.”

“What he means is we’ll try and keep it behind closed doors if you do,” Max elaborated with a grin.

“Quite,” Dorian chuckled. “Perhaps we ought to start locking our doors at night too, maybe set a few simple wards? It won’t keep the more determined out but it will at least give us a moment’s notice if we’re to be set upon in the dead of night.”

“You’re talking as though you’re expecting to have spies prowling around the place,” Cullen began, half-laughing, though the sound quickly died when he looked around and saw three very serious faces staring back at him. “Maker,” he breathed. “Tell me you’re kidding?”

“These are the people who once, when I refused to return home, paid a group of mercenaries to kidnap me and return me by force,” said Dorian flatly. “Innocent men died that night because my parents didn’t want me ruining the good family name with my ‘antics’. I would not put anything past them.”

“Unfortunately, Dorian’s parents aren’t the only fly in the ointment,” Maxwell chipped in. “I’m distinctly aware that my father – our father,” he amended, nodding to Evie, “threatened to have you killed, he was that determined for Evie’s marriage to take place. Now, I can’t say the man’s ever had me kidnapped before but since he’s taken control of his lyrium mine, he’s become… well, ruthless, to say the least.”

“Which leaves us with a dilemma,” Evie sighed, and she took the blonde’s hands gently within her own. “Do we keep you here and run the risk of you being found by my in-laws or do we try and install you somewhere else and leave you open to attack from my father, should he ever catch wind of you being here?”

“That’s a big ‘if’, love” Cullen replied, pressing his lips to her knuckles and kissing them. “I’m more than capable of taking care of myself. I had planned to find someplace of my own, pick up a little mercenary work, anything to be close to you.”

Evie smiled but it was a pained thing that made Dorian’s heart ache in his chest. She clearly didn’t like that idea and he understood why: he had felt the same way when Max had suggested it safer to stay in an inn that at the palazzo.

“Perhaps, if we can think of a suitable cover, he can stay here,” he began thoughtfully. “Max has never needed one, he’s Evie’s brother so it’s easy enough to explain his presence here, should anyone ask. But a hunky Ferelden like yourself? Considerably more conspicuous. It would have to be something low-key…”

“Could I not pose as one of your servants?” the former Templar shrugged. “Surely no one would look twice at a foreign servant? You Tevinters import them from all over Thedas.”

Dorian glanced at Evie, who seemed to be giving the idea some thought. She canted her head at him, a tiny gesture he’d come to learn meant ‘what do you think?’.

“It’s not a terrible idea, actually,” Dorian admitted. “We could have another bed set up in the servants’ wing, keep your things there. Of course, you wouldn’t have to sleep there, it would just be for show.”

“What would you have him pose as?” Max asked. “You can hardly have him playing houseboy, I mean, look at him!”

“What’s wrong with me, exactly?” frowned Cullen, little patches of heat rising on his cheeks.

“Oh nothing,” Max smirked, mischievously. “Not a damn thing…” He looked the blonde up and down very conspicuously and Dorian had to bite his lip to keep from laughing at the Templar’s notable alarm.

“What my dear Maxwell is trying to say,” he elaborated, and he nudged his lover chidingly in the ribs, “is that you’re very… shall we say _strapping_ for a servant.”

“Perhaps a bodyguard?” the rogue suggested. “You’re moving up in the Circle, it wouldn’t be inconceivable that you’d had a few threats, felt compelled to hire a little extra muscle?”

“Extra muscle?” Cullen spluttered indignantly, whilst Evie giggled behind her hands.

“An excellent idea, amatus,” said Dorian with a wicked smile. “I think that will do nicely. Of course, we’ll have to arrange you the proper attire, teach you how to act in front of an audience.”

“An audience?” Cullen echoed, dryly. “I didn’t realise we were putting on a show.”

“More than you know,” Dorian grumbled. “Though I meant specifically when we have company, company that is not in on our little charade.”

“Like the dinner party you’re having in a few weeks,” Max reminded him.

“Precisely. If there’s ever a stage upon which to test our skills, it shall be then.”

“So it’s settled?” Evie asked, and she shot Dorian an all too knowing smirk. “Cullen is to pose as your bodyguard?”

“Not so great an inconvenience on my part,” the Tevinter admitted, leering, and he could see that the only thing keeping Evie from laughing was the insecurity on her lover’s face.

“That’s alright with you, love, isn’t it?” she asked, hanging onto his hand, smiling up at him with an innocent flutter of her lashes.

“Maker’s breath,” the man muttered, and he was clearly flustered. “Why do I feel like I’ve suddenly wandered into a den of wolves?”

Evie laughed than and it was signal enough for Dorian to join in, letting loose the mirth he’d thus far concealed for the Templar’s benefit.

“Don’t worry, you’ll get used to it,” the redhead promised, kissing Cullen on the cheek. “You’re going to have lots of fun here.”

“I dread to think,” Cullen drawled, but, with the smirk he had on his face, it was hard to take him seriously.

 

*

 

Dorian came across Evie that afternoon in the kitchens – alone, much to his surprise. She was topping a tray full of delicate looking cakes with strawberries, so wrapped up in her task that she didn’t even notice him enter.

“ _I’m surprised to find you alone_ ,” he said softly, chuckling at the way she jumped and almost squashed one of her cakes. Evie glanced up, her expression distinctly unamused, and she flicked a stray strawberry in his direction.

“ _You can be such an ass_ ,” she said, though she was smiling begrudgingly and Dorian took that to mean it was safe to approach.

“Evie, I admire that you’re trying to carve a niche for yourself, I truly do, but what in the Void are you doing down here when you have a gorgeous man upstairs in your bedroom?”

He leaned against the counter she was working on, eyeing up her newest creations. Evie fixed him with a smirk.

“He’s taking a nap, I’ll have you know,” she informed him, and she tweaked his nose, leaving a blob of whipped cream behind. Dorian laughed, swiping it off with his finger and lapping it up.

“Really?” he grinned, fiendishly. “And what exactly did you do to him that required him taking a nap afterwards?”

Evie shot him a sideways glance. “We have months to catch up on remember?” she said, with a coy wink. “Seriously though, the lack of lyrium is taking its toll on him. It’ll ease, eventually. He just needs to take it easy. Here, try this.”

She snatched up a miniature pastry from another tray and, before he could so much object, stuffed it into his mouth.

“What do you think?” she asked, watching his face for the slightest reaction. “Too much lemon?”

“Mmm.” Dorian had to chew and swallow before he could answer her, finding the sweet citrus tang quite pleasant. “No actually, it’s just right. Listen, there’s something I wanted to talk to you about.”

He supposed that now he had her alone, there was no better time to discuss her need for precaution with Cullen.

“Me too,” she beamed, and she moved on again from the tray of pastries, inspecting a bowl of something pink and fruity smelling. “I’ve been trying out recipes for your dinner party, I thought I might get your opinion on them.” The bowl was abandoned, apparently satisfactory, and she turned around to the counter behind her, producing a platter of something so decadently chocolatey that Dorian forgot his purpose for a moment.  His mouth watered as the rich aroma tickled his senses and he took one without needing to be asked, biting into the little morsel. It was dense and fudgy and so, so delicious. Dorian groaned his approval, snatching up another and devouring it in turn.

“That one, definitely,” he moaned, licking his fingers clean of ever last crumb. “Maker, that’s almost orgasmic.”

“I’m glad you think so,” Evie laughed. “I was thinking of doing three miniatures, you know, to cater to all tastes. That one can be the first.”

“Eurgh, you’re going to have us bursting out of our finery, aren’t you?” he complained. “You know, you really have taken to the concept of Tevinter decadence far too well.”

Evie laughed at that. She set down her chocolate treats and hurried away down the length of the kitchen, apparently looking for something else. Dorian followed her after a beat, remembering what he wished to discuss.

“Actually, I wanted to talk to you about Cullen,” he called out, and he almost ran into her back when she stopped abruptly. She turned, regarding him with curious eyes.

“What about him?” she murmured. Dorian opened his mouth, sighed and then closed it again, trying to find the right words to voice such a delicate matter. He knew it would probably bring Evie no end of joy to bear Cullen’s children but it just couldn’t happen; not here, not now.

“About the need to be careful, specifically,” he said eventually and Evie tilted her head, puzzled. “We can’t afford any accidents,” he explained. “By which I mean, blonde-haired, green-eyed babies with exceptional bone structure.”

Evie blinked and, much to his great relief, she laughed. “Oh darling, you are so sweet,” she chortled, patting him genially on the arm. “And I appreciate your concern, I really do. But Cullen and I have been involved for over a year now. Do you really think we’ve managed that without being careful? I mean, could you imagine the uproar in the Circle if one of the Enchanters was found to be carrying the Knight Commander’s baby?”

Dorian breathed a sigh of relief.

“So you have it all under control, then?” he asked. “All necessary precautions taken?”

“Of course,” she smiled. “We do so out of habit by now. So stop your fretting.”

“Good,” he murmured. “To be honest, I’d have been lost had you said you weren’t. I’ve hardly had to worry about such things myself, after all. And I apologise, for bringing it up. It’s not an easy subject to approach with tact.” 

Evie beamed at him fondly and she bounced up on her toes to envelop him in a hug.

“You know you can talk to me about anything, Dorian,” she said softly, as his hands settled on her back, squeezing her close. “We’re friends. Just… spare me the juicy details of your bedroom antics with Max, hm? There’s such a thing as too much familiarity between siblings.”

She turned in his arms, directing her attention to a platter of the scrumptious caramel tarts she’d first made a few weeks ago. Dorian chuckled and he pressed a fond kiss to the juncture of her neck and shoulders. His hands came to rest inadvertently on her stomach and he found himself imagining what it would be like were it swollen and heavy with his child. He had never imagined himself as a father, not once, but suddenly it seemed like life was taking him down that very path, whether wished it to or not. It was hardly a comforting thought. On the contrary, he felt a shiver run down the column of his spine and the air seemed suddenly too thin to breathe. He pulled away from Evie, gasping in great lungfuls of air as he tried to ground himself. His heart pounded. He was trembling all of a sudden and he had to grip the edge of the counter for support.

“Dorian,” Evie whispered, and she was beside him instantly, placing a reassuring hand on the small of his back.

“I’m fine,” he insisted, though the sincerity of the words was probably lost to the way he was panting.

“It’s alright,” she promised. “It’s alright to be scared.”

“What about absolutely petrified?” he asked, laughing weakly.

“That too,” she agreed. “I know I am. There aren’t the words in my language or yours for how not ready I am for this.”

“That makes two of us, then,” he mumbled and he leaned over the counter, fighting back the pressing urge to vomit. Evie rubbed slow, steady circles on his back. She stayed by his side, steadfast and silent, waiting for the panic to pass.

When Dorian eventually straightened up, she wasted no time in pulling him into a fierce embrace, resting her chin on his shoulder.

“Whatever happens, we will get through this together,” she assured him. “You, me, Maxwell and Cullen. You’re not alone, Dorian.”

“Thank you,” he whispered. A couple of tears leaked from the corners of his eyes but he ignored them, focusing instead on the blossoming warmth in his chest. She was right, of course. Whatever trials he had to face, he would no longer face them alone. In a way, he was grateful to his parents this time for their controlling and meddling. They had unwittingly provided him with at least one unwavering friend (two, if Cullen came round) and delivered him into the arms of a man he was slowly growing to adore above all others. If it was their wish to make him miserable, thus far they had spectacularly failed. He only hoped that remained to be the case.

 


	26. Green-Eyed Monster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen adjusts to life in Tevinter... or tries to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, before anyone reads this I just have to say this was easily the hardest chapter to write of the entire story so far. There was so much going on, it was hard to get it all down whilst doing what I hope was an accurate representation of Cullen and what he's going through. I only hope it's alright! 
> 
> Warning for angry, jealous Cullen ahead. 
> 
>  
> 
> P.S. - There should be a nice fluffy companion piece up tonight as well. You know... hurt/comfort and all that.

XXIII

Green-Eyed Monster

 

 

To say that things in Tevinter were strange was something of an understatement, as far as Cullen was concerned. He hadn’t known what to expect when he’d left Ostwick. Whatever he’d imagined, whatever thoughts his mind had cooked up in idle moments and in his dreams, it certainly wasn’t this.

He’d known of course, even before Maxwell had written to him, that Evie was married. What he hadn’t anticipated was them being so close. Everything was so tangled up in everything else – Maxwell and Dorian’s affair, Evie’s friendship with Dorian and their meddlesome parents, to name but a few. If he’d thought for a second that simply leaving with her in tow was a possibility (and those thoughts had been fleeting, at most) he knew now that it was very much not the case. Things were too complicated here to just up and leave. And of course, there begged the question of where they would go if they did. Cullen hadn’t been lying when he’d told Evie he was glad to leave Ostwick. The situation with the mages and Templars in the South was becoming volatile and he imagined what had transpired so far was just the beginning. When things really heated up… well, he dreaded to think what would happen. He didn’t want to take Evie back to that. So he grit his teeth, resigned himself to the fact that, for the moment, staying put was the best option – at least until they came up with an alternative.

It was, admittedly, easier said than done. The lyrium withdrawal was beneficial to neither his faculties nor his temperament. The symptoms came and went but when they were there, they were particularly unpleasant. Cullen found himself suffering from headaches, which got so bad sometimes he’d find himself hunched over a pail, vomiting. Evie scolded him the first time it happened.  

“Why didn’t you say something?” she murmured, rubbing his back as he emptied his stomach violently into a chamber pot. “Darling, you know I can help you if you’re suffering. I’ll do anything I can but you need to tell me for that to happen.”

“You were busy,” Cullen gasped, when he could breathe again. “I didn’t want to interrupt your lesson.”

Evie offered him a damp cloth and he took it gratefully, wiping at his mouth. The pounding in his head always lessened after he’d thrown up but it never truly eased. The redhead knelt beside him, placing a blissfully cool hand to his clammy forehead.

“It doesn’t matter,” she told him softly. “You know I’d drop anything for you, especially if you’re unwell.”

He felt the strange sensation of her healing magic then, almost like a tingle, cool and fresh upon his skin. Groaning, he leant back into her arms and with healing hands and a loving caress, she coaxed him into sleep.

Cullen would like to have blamed the lyrium withdrawal for his other burgeoning issues – namely his jealousy of a certain Tevinter mage – but he knew that particular fault was mostly his own.

 

It all began the morning after their little impromptu council. They’d slept in late, having been up most of the night reconnecting (Cullen didn’t know how he’d managed it, he was hardly eighteen anymore). There’d been a blissful half hour of simply lying in bed, basking in each other’s company in a way they’d never been able to do when at the Circle. Then his body’s pressing needs had forced them to get up and begin their day. He’d disappeared into the private washroom adjoining Evelyn’s bedroom. When he’d emerged again, feeling cleaner and refreshed, it was to find Dorian sitting on the bed with Evie, brandishing a piece of parchment at her. He too looked like he’d not long gotten up. He’d been wearing a pair of loose fitting linen trousers that hung off his hips, showcasing every toned muscle in his torso. Upon hearing the door, he’d glanced up and he’d fixed Cullen with an expression of surprised delight. It was only then that Cullen had remembered he wasn’t wearing anything. Cursing, he’d ducked back into the washroom, his cheeks flaming with embarrassment. He’d seized the towel he’d used to dry himself off with and wrapped it around his waist before heading back into the bedroom. Evie was waiting for him by the door.

“I’m so sorry, love,” she’d apologised. “I should have warned you.”

Cullen had glanced over her shoulder at Dorian, who had still been sitting casually on the bed, biting his lip and looking very much like the cat who’d gotten the cream.

“It’s fine,” he’d murmured. “I suppose it’s only fitting. Your brother’s already seen me naked.”

“Mmm, and now I got to settle the score,” Dorian had purred, chuckling. “He’ll be most disappointed when he gets home.”

“Why, where is he?” Evie had asked, a curious frown crumpling her brow.

“He has a little business to take care of today,” shrugged Dorian. “He’ll be home by nightfall.”

The Tevinter had rose from the bed then, sauntering over to where Cullen and Evie had stopped outside the washroom door.

“I’m going to go and dress amicus,” he’d said softly, and he’d kissed Evie on the cheek, much to Cullen’s surprise and annoyance. “Will you be joining me for brunch?”

“Of course,” Evie had beamed. “Give us a moment to dress too and we’ll be right there.”

“Excellent.” Dorian had looked pleased and he’d glanced at Cullen, giving the former Templar another conspicuous once ever before winking and making his way to the door.

“Oh, before I forget,” he’d called, over his shoulder. “I’ve sent for a tailor to drop by this afternoon. We need to have you fitted for some simpler garb, my dear man.”

Cullen had nodded, not trusting himself to speak, and Dorian left, though not before he’d plucked something out of one of the many wardrobes.

“His clothes are in here?” Cullen had asked with a frown once he was gone.

“Of course,” Evie had shrugged. “We’re supposed to be a married couple, it would look odd if someone came in here and found us living in separate rooms.”

“It’d look odder still if they came in and found him lip-locked with his brother-in-law,” the blonde had muttered, as he’d begun to pull on a clean set of clothes. Evie had merely laughed.

“Well, yes,” she’d agreed. “But it’s much easier for them to dash to other ends of a room and act casual on short notice than it is to transport all of his belongings from his room to my own.”

“I suppose,” Cullen had conceded grudgingly.

“Besides, he usually sleeps in here when Max isn’t around,” Evie had said, lightly. “Not anymore, obviously,” she added quickly, clearly sensing his displeasure.

“You two slept in the same bed?” Cullen had asked slowly, gritting his teeth against the sudden sickening anger he could feel bubbling in his veins.

“It wasn’t like that, love,” said Evie, soothingly, inching up close to him and wrapping her arms around his waist. “I used to share a bed with Emilia at the Circle, remember? You didn’t mind that.”

“That’s different,” the former Templar had scowled. “He’s-” he’d begun, but he’d stopped before he said too much. What exactly was his argument anyway? That Dorian was a man? A very attractive man, at that? He knew it shouldn’t matter. Both Evie and Dorian himself had made it quite clear that their relationship was not like that. Still, he couldn’t help his jealousy.

It was a vice that persisted, he found. After the conversation about their former sleeping habits, Evie and Dorian clearly made an effort to tone it down in his presence, which he couldn’t deny he appreciated. However, it didn’t stop the pangs of envy he felt whenever he walked into a room and found them giggling in Tevene or practically sitting in top of each other as they pored over some book or letter. Cullen tried to control it, he really did. He reminded himself that Evie had always been free with her affection. She was just as close with her brother as she was with Dorian. She was even more affectionate with Cullen himself, never embarrassed to wrap herself around him or pull him into a fiery, breath-stealing kiss no matter who was in the room. But for some reason, seeing her with the Tevinter just bugged him.

It only got worse as the week wore on. Around three days into Cullen’s stay, Dorian fell ill. It happened when they were all sitting around the dinner table after a particularly pleasant meal. Maxwell had his chair pulled up right next to Dorian’s and he was stroking his lover’s thigh, the pair of them exchanging tender glances when they thought no one was watching. Evie was actually sitting in Cullen’s lap. As much as the blonde had blushed furiously when she’d done it, he could happily say he was glad she did. She was leaning on his chest, gazing up at him with undisguised adoration as they exchanged easy conversation. For several blissful moments, Cullen felt like the only man in the world who mattered. She pressed kisses to his neck, whispered things in his ear that had his blood heating and his cock stirring in his trousers. He was thinking of calling it a night and carrying his love back to their room when he heard Maxwell speak.

“Dorian love? Are you alright?”

Cullen glanced across the table and he felt Evie do the same, swivelling on his knee.

“I’m fine, amatus,” the Tevinter murmured, though even Cullen couldn’t deny he seemed anything but. He was several shades paler than usual and his forehead and temples were glistening with sweat. He had his hand pressed to his middle, as though it was causing him pain.

“Are you sure?” Evie asked, and she slipped off Cullen’s lap. “You a bit look peaky. Do you want to go and get some air?”

“Perhaps a moment on the balcony wouldn’t be so terrible an idea,” Dorian admitted weakly. Evie edged around the table then, offering the mage a hand and helping him to his feet. He remained somewhat hunched at the middle, clutching at his belly, his face a grimace of discomfort.

“Take it easy,” Evie advised him and she slipped an arm around his waist for support.

“Do you want me to come?” asked Maxwell, appraising his lover with open concern.

“I’m a big boy, Max,” Dorian assured him. “I’m sure I can manage a moment without you. Besides, the balcony overlooks the square, you know that. Got to be careful.”

“Alright,” Max agreed, begrudgingly. “I’ll fix you a brandy for when you get back.”

“I knew there was a reason I kept you around,” Dorian joked, and he and Evie made for the door, the mage leaning slightly on Evie’s shoulder.

They can’t have made it more than three paces down the corridor. Max and Cullen had barely had time to exchange worried glances when they heard a loud groan and Dorian’s mumble of “No, no, no!”. Then came the unpleasant sounding splatter of something wet hitting the marble floor and an unmistakably feminine cry.

“Max!” Evie cried. “Cullen, get out here!”

The two men jumped up from their seats and scrambled out of the room. They found Dorian on all fours in the middle of the corridor, Evie crouched at his side. He was vomiting violently on the floor, eyes watering with the force of it. Cullen did the first thing that came to mind and grabbed an ornate bowl off a nearby pedestal. He dumped the water and the flowers that filled it into another vase and rushed the thing to Evie, who placed it before her ailing friend. Maxwell went to his lover’s side, placing his hand on his back.

“Easy, love,” he murmured. “We’ve got you.”

Feeling a rare pang of sympathy for the mage – he was no stranger to heaving his guts up these days – he went back into the dining room and poured him a cup of water. By the time he got back, it seemed to have stopped. Dorian was pale and sweaty, trembling and gasping for breath.

“I’m fine,” he panted, as Max and Evie fussed over him. Cullen handed him the goblet and he took it gratefully with trembling hands. “Thank you,” he murmured, taking a couple of small sips before handing it back. “Now could we possibly get off this floor and away from the remains of my dinner, if you please? Hardly the place for a conversation.”

“We should get you to bed,” Max suggested. “You’re obviously not well, love.”

“Really, what gave me away?” said Dorian sarcastically. “Was it the doubling over in pain or the sudden excess of vomiting?”

Max merely raised a brow and Dorian sighed.

“I’m sorry, amatus,” he murmured. “That was uncalled for.”

“It’s fine,” Max assured him. “I’d be bitchy too after losing my dinner like that. Now come on, let’s get you resting. Ellery can deal with the mess.”

Max and Evie managed to hoist him to his feet, though it was clearly with some difficulty; the man could barely stand.

“Here, let me,” Cullen offered, and he took over from Evie, supporting the Tevinter with an arm around his waist. Slowly, they began to make their way together to Dorian’s bedroom, which was unfortunately the last one on the corridor where all the bedrooms were situated.

“I have to say, this isn’t exactly what I had in mind when I imagined you both accompanying me to my quarters,” Dorian joked. Cullen felt heat suffuse his cheeks, heard Evie giggle somewhere behind them. “I’d say you could watch, amicus,” the mage called back to her, “but… well, I’m sure I don’t need to spell it out for you.”

“Can’t even behave when you’re ill, can you?” Max chuckled.

“Would you have me any other way?”

They eventually reached Dorian’s room, mercifully without any more vomiting incidents. Cullen and Maxwell eased the Tevinter onto the bed and Evie went to him straight away, her fingers working the many buckles and clasps on his robes. Cullen stood back and out of the way. He tried not to be annoyed that his lover was undressing another man, he really did; Dorian was sick, after all, and there was nothing remotely seductive about it. It was a hard thing to watch, however. The blonde glanced at Max, to see if he seemed similarly peeved at his sister undressing his lover so, but the only expression on the man’s face was a morose sort of concern.

“What can I do, Evie?” he asked, his voice small and helpless.

“You can fetch me a bowl of water and a clean washcloth,” she suggested, as she pushed Dorian’s out robes off of his shoulders. “He’s a little warm.”

Dorian groaned then, attempting to curl up on his side against whatever was paining him. Evie pulled him back up, hushing him tenderly, brushing his hair back from his head.

“Just a moment, amicus,” she murmured. “Let’s just get your shirt off and then we can get you comfortable.”

Her hands reached for the hem of the sleeveless linen tunic he wore under his robes and, together with his help, she lifted it up and over his head.

“I think I’m going to be sick again,” Dorian moaned, clutching at his middle. Evie glanced urgently around the room, clearly looking for something he could throw up in.

“I’ve got it,” Cullen muttered and he grabbed a painted ceramic basin from the bureau, thrusting it down on the bed in front of Dorian. He was just in time. The mage hunched over, retching, and Evie sat herself behind him, rubbing his back.

“It’s alright,” she soothed. “We’re here. I’ll heal you as soon as your sickness stops.”

Max returned from the washroom with a bowl of water and a cloth and he sighed sadly upon seeing his lover vomiting again.

“Not your day, is it, love?” he said, sitting down on the bed. He held Dorian’s hand as he heaved miserably, bringing up nothing but bile and water. When it finally stopped, the mage leaned back against Evie with a wretched groan, his hair damp with sweat. Evie wasted no time, wrapping her arms around his middle and drawing forth tendrils of healing magic. They danced over Dorian’s skin, curling and twisting, vanishing into the muscles beneath as Evie massaged them into his abdomen. Cullen’s lip curled then, in spite of himself. Seeing her hands on the other man’s bare skin, seeing her touching him with such gentle care, such familiarity, it made his blood boil. He closed his eyes, breathing deep against the sudden and irrational urge to punch the mage square in the jaw. Maker what was wrong with him? He really needed to get out of there.

“I think my presence here in unnecessary,” he muttered, briefly catching Evie’s eye as she glanced up at him. “Unless there’s something I can do, I shall retire.”

The redhead gave him an apologetic smile. “I’ll be there as soon as I can, my love,” she promised. Cullen nodded and, with a brief glance at Max, who was busying himself with removing the bowl, he stalked out of the room. His hands were shaking as he made his way down the corridor. He wrenched open the door to Evie’s room, wincing when he heard it bang off the wall outside and slam shut again behind him, and he stomped his way over to her dressing table. Shaking hands gripped the wood and he took several deep, slow breaths, trying to even himself. He had no idea where this stupid, irrational jealousy was coming from. There was nothing going on between Evie and Dorian, he knew that. And yet, every time he saw them together…. Cullen groaned and he looked up, staring at his reflection in the mirror before him. Even in the dim light, he looked tired, his complexion pale, his eyes faintly circled in grey. His teeth were bared in something like a grimace and the sight shocked him somewhat. Who was this man, this snarling, envious man? It certainly wasn’t him. Was this the withdrawal talking? He had no idea. He’d never known a Templar able to wean themselves off the stuff so he was traipsing unchartered territory. It was alarming, to say the least.

Sighing, he pushed off the dressing table, unlacing the ties at the neck of his shirt and shrugging out of it. He tried to focus on anything but Evie: Evie with her hands on Dorian’s bare skin, Evie kissing his temple and whispering sweetly in his ear. Of course his mind took it further and tortured him with images of them huddled together, stealing clandestine kisses; of the Tevinter smiling and pushing Evie down on the bed, covering her beautiful naked body with his own. Loosing a howl of rage, Cullen picked up the nearest object to him and hurled it with all his might. It smashed against the wall, sending shards of glass flying everywhere, splattering the wall with purple tinged liquid. He recognised the scent – one of the potions Evie had made to help him to sleep. Groaning, the former Templar sunk to the floor by the bed, gripping his head in his hands.

“It’s the lyrium,” he whispered, feverishly. “Maker, what was I thinking? I should be taking it.”

He was half-tempted to run back To Dorian and Max’s room, to ransack the place until he found some. Max worked with the stuff, Cullen knew; he came in reeking of it some nights. He had to have some stashed away somewhere. He should be taking it. How could he possibly be the man Evie needed – the man she deserved – if he didn’t?

Of course, he didn’t do it. In fact, he was still sitting in the same spot on the floor when Evie came in Maker knew how long later.

“Cullen?” she called out softly, lighting the lamps with a simple wave of her hand. She spotted him, shirtless and hunched over on the floor, and she was beside him in seconds. “Love, what is it?” she asked. “Don’t tell me you’re getting sick too?”

Cullen lowered his hands and he glanced up at the woman he loved above all others. She looked weary, her face wan and her emerald eyes dim and heavy. Wisps of auburn hair were escaping her elaborate up-do but still, she remained the most beautiful creature he’d ever laid eyes on. Cullen rose to his feet to embrace her, hardly believing his own good fortune. He pulled her tightly into the ring of his arms and made to kiss her hair. That was when he noticed it. She reeked of him: of Dorian. His scent – sandalwood and spice and some kind of fancy soap – was all over her, marking her like a brand. At once, Cullen’s envy flared again. He grit his teeth and he had to step back, pushing her away. Evie frowned.

“Cullen, what’s the matter?” she murmured. “You’re being strange. Is it the withdrawal?”

Slowly, Cullen opened his eyes, breathing deep against the fire in his veins. He pinned her with a look, let his eyes rake up and down her body.

“Tell me you’re mine,” he whispered. Evie’s eyes widened and she let out an uncomfortable laugh.

“What?” she chuckled. “Cullen, of course I’m yours. What in Thedas are you talking about?”

Something in the former Templar snapped then and he fell upon Evie like a vulture on carrion. He kissed her, gripped her tiny waist, bit and sucked at the perfect white flesh of her throat. Evie gasped, wrapping her arms around his neck and clutching to him. Cullen responded with a feral growl and he pushed her backward until her back hit something solid – a wardrobe, by the sound of the wooden clunk. He pressed himself flush against her, hungry, angry and desperately aroused, his mouth working across her neck and down her chest. A trail of angry red marks was left in his wake and Cullen’s cock swelled to see them. They would bruise, most likely, and then the Tevinter would see once and for all whom she belonged to.

“Maker, Cullen!” Evie cried, head thumping against the wood as she tossed it back. “W-what’s brought this on?”

She moaned noisily as he tugged her gown open, wrapping his lips around her nipple and sucking hard. He didn’t answer. How could he possibly tell her how weak and petty and jealous he was being? What a shadow of a man he was without his precious lyrium? No, she deserved so much better than that. And so he silenced her questions with pleasure, determined to make so thoroughly, achingly his that her voice would grow hoarse from screaming his name. And if a certain Tevinter mage should happen to hear them? Well, he supposed that was simply a pleasant bonus.

 


	27. Three Little Words

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evie talks to Cullen about what's eating him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so I promised to try and give you a little more of the loving side of Evie and Cullen. I really hope I've managed to do that. It's been a tiring couple of days here at clan Dready (lol thanks Pixie, it's stuck with me too XD) so... yeah... 
> 
> *crosses fingers*

XXIV

Three Little Words

When Evie awoke the next morning, she was aching. For a moment, she found herself wondering why, rubbing her bleary eyes as she sat up in bed. Then Cullen stirred at her side and it all came rushing back to her.

He’d been like a man possessed last night, desperate and animalistic in his need. He’d taken her roughly against the wardrobe, moved her to the bed and brought her to climax again and again with his mouth and then fucked her once more, just for good measure. Her body bore the marks of his passion in the form of little purple bruises, which he’d sucked into her neck and shoulders. Evie supposed she should have been annoyed but in all honesty, it had been incredible.

That being said, Evie knew there was something behind it. Cullen was a passionate man but he was rarely that feral, rarely that rough with her. Something was clearly bothering him and she had a sneaking suspicion she knew what.

Bending down, she pressed a kiss to his brow and was not surprised when his eyes began to flutter open.

“Good morning, handsome,” she murmured, propping herself up on her elbow and gazing down at him. His hair was tousled from sleep, some of its natural curliness creeping back in, and it made her smile to see. Cullen opened his eyes and glanced up at her, an adoring little grin pulling at his lips. Then his gaze settled on her love bites and he groaned.

“Maker, look at the state of you,” he whispered. “Evie, I’m sorry, I should have never-”

Evie cut him off with a finger on his lips. “Shh,” she chuckled. “Don’t apologise. It took me by surprise, certainly, but I thoroughly enjoyed myself. And as for these?” She called upon her healing magic then, feeling it burst in tendrils from within to ghost over her skin. The bevy of bruises began to fade before their eyes until all that was left was smooth, porcelain flesh. “See?” she shrugged. “No big deal.”

“Yes but I could have-”

“But you didn’t,” said Evie, simply. “And if I’m honest, I’m not concerned that you ever would. I’d rather discuss what riled you up so much in the first place.”

Cullen closed his eyes, his expression one of utmost discomfort. All the same, he sat up and he had the decency to admit what was on his mind.

“I confess,” he sighed, “I’ve been feeling rather… well, jealous, lately. That is of you… and Dorian. I know you say there’s nothing going on,” he pointed out hurriedly, when Evie frowned, making to object. “I know. But I can’t help it, Evie. I see you two together and you’re so close and so unified and I have to wonder…” he sighed then, dipping his head. “I’m sorry,” he murmured. “You deserve better than my weakness.”

“Cullen,” Evie whispered, and she reached out to him, placing her hand upon his shoulder. “You are not weak,” she assured him, her heart aching to think that that was how he saw himself. He glanced up at her, honey coloured eyes dripping self-deprecation, and she bit her lip. “Oh, love,” she sighed, slipping her arms around his neck and sliding into his lap. He froze in surprise for a moment before melting, folding his arms around her back. “I love you,” said softly, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. “And I’m sorry if I’ve done anything to contribute to the way you’ve been feeling. I love Dorian but as a friend. Even if he liked women, which he doesn’t, I would never pursue him. I have you.”

“A lyrium-addled, irrationally jealous husk of a former Templar,” Cullen muttered. “Lucky you.”

Evie scowled at that and she pulled out of his embrace, fixing him with a firm stare.

“You listen here, Cullen Stanton Rutherford,” she said, sternly. “You are not lyrium-addled nor are you an irrationally jealous husk. I think you’re coping amazingly with the effects of lyrium withdrawal – most people go mad from it! And as for being jealous… everyone gets jealous sometimes,” she shrugged.

Cullen quirked an eyebrow. “Even you?” he asked, and from his tone it was quite clear he didn’t believe her capable. Evie could only laugh, shaking her head.

“The other day, when Dorian had the tailor here,” she began, lowering her eyes. “I was jealous then.”

Cullen snorted. “What?” he asked, bemused. “What do you mean?”

“Maker, you didn’t even notice did you?” chuckled Evie. “I swear, Cullen, sometimes you are so oblivious… The girl he had come and take your measurements?”

“His assistant,” the blonde shrugged. “What about her?”

“She was very pretty,” Evie frowned. “And young. And she was clearly delighted at an excuse to have her hands all over you.”

“You’re making this up,” Cullen accused, though he was smiling.

“Sadly, no,” admitted Evie, sheepishly. “When she stepped up to you with that tape measure, she looked like Satinalia had come early. And she was just all over you! “Oh, messere, you have such excellent posture!”. “Your waist is every tailor’s dream, Ser!”.” Evie glowered, remembering the incident all too well. Dorian had been shaking with silent laughter and it was only the Tevinter’s influence that had stopped her from lobbing a fireball at the girl when she’d knelt down to do Cullen’s inseam.

“So that’s what she was saying,” the former Templar muttered, flushing slightly. “I didn’t understand a word, naturally.”

“My point is,” Evie persisted, “jealousy happens to the best of us. It doesn’t make you any less of a good man.”

She smiled and Cullen shook his head, the corners of his mouth upturned.

“Some days it’s just hard to believe that what we have is real,” he sighed. “I never expected… not for a moment…”

Evie laughed then and she huddled up to Cullen’s side, laying her head on his shoulder.

“You don’t have to tell me,” she smirked. “Do you remember your first day as Knight-Captain after you were transferred to Ostwick? I certainly do. I took one look at you and I prayed to the Maker, ‘Please, please let this man be a total arsehole!’.”

Cullen laughed. “Why would you pray for me to be an arsehole?”

Evie smiled, feeling her cheeks heat as she recalled the memory. “Because,” she whispered, “I just knew that, if you were anywhere near as charming and benevolent as you were handsome, I was in serious trouble.” She glanced up at him and it pleased her to see him smiling too, blushing like a schoolboy. “But no,” she chuckled, “my prayers were ignored and you were everything a Templar was meant to be: noble, firm and yet fair all at the same time. And I fell… so so hard. I wasn’t the only one either. You had to have noticed your little flock of admirers.”

“Honestly? I just thought everyone was really friendly in Ostwick,” Cullen admitted, with an embarrassed grin. “Well, at first I did. When I started getting pairs of smallclothes slipped into my morning reports, I began to think differently.”

“Maker, I hope they were clean,” Evie laughed.

“I’d never stop to check,” said Cullen, pulling a face. “They went straight in the fireplace.”

“So efficient,” the redhead winked. “You were so good at what you did, love. When you found me in that vault… when you pulled that… that _creep_ off me… I never expected him to get more than a rap on the knuckles. ‘Naughty Templar, don’t touch the filthy mage!’ That’s what Edmond would have done. But you stood up for me, had him punished, even though the other Templars resented you for it.”

“He tried to force himself on you, Evie,” Cullen scowled. “The man was scum, filth unfit to be called a Templar. If I’d had my way I’d have seen him banished from the Order. But I was only Knight-Captain then. It wasn’t down to me.” 

“I’ve always said, it’s a shame more Templars aren’t like you,” Evie sighed. “I hate that I’ve taken you away from that life – not that I’m not ecstatic you’re here, of course. I just can’t help feeling selfish.”

Cullen hummed softly and Eve felt the velvety softness of his lips against her temple.

“I made my choice, Evelyn, and I have no regrets,” he assured her. “Besides, I’m not certain what kind of future the Order has. I fear its days may be numbered.”

“I suppose only time will tell,” the redhead mused. “For all of us.” She chanced a look at him and the conviction she saw in his eyes took her breath away.

“I am beside you,” he insisted. “No matter what. Even if… even if you and Dorian have to… you know…”

Evie did know and she shook her head, trying to clear the unwanted thought from her mind.

“Don’t,” she murmured, peeling herself away from him. “I don’t want to think about that.”

“Evie, you’re going to have to-”

“Please, Cullen!” she begged him, and to her mortification, she could feel tears beginning to well in her eyes. “I have thought about it and every time, it makes me feel sick. Having to do that to you… having to do that to Dorian… it doesn’t even bear thinking about.”

“So you’re going to refuse?” Cullen frowned and he grabbed her by the arm, turning her gently to face him. “Evie, you heard what Dorian said. There’s only so long they’ll give you before they get suspicious. And… Maker preserve me, but you’ve already said this Pavus woman tried to get you to drug her son. What makes you think she’d be above drugging you too?”

“I don’t doubt she would,” Evie muttered. “In fact, I’m willing to bet she’d try anything. I just…” she shook her head. “Cullen we have three more days before we have to address it again. Can we just have three days without thinking about it, without it being a thing? Please?”

Cullen looked like he wanted to argue but he merely sighed and lovingly caressed the side of Evie’s face.

“If you wish it,” he acquiesced. “But we _will_ have to address it, you know that.”

“I know,” Evie sighed. “I’d just like a little more time to just be us, without any of that looming over us. I’ve only just got you back.”  

Cullen’s expression softened then and he folded Evie into his muscular embrace.

“I understand,” he murmured, kissing her hair. “Why don’t I have someone draw us a bath? We can wash up together. It’ll be just like old times.”

Evie chuckled. “Ah yes,” she beamed. “Oh the perks of being Knight-Commander – the ability to bathe in privacy! I’d like that, actually. Although…” and she paused, wincing at what she was about to say for fear of irritating him. “Would you mind terribly if I went and checked on my patient first?” she asked timidly and to her surprise, he laughed.

“Evie, you don’t have to tread on eggshells around me,” he smiled. “I have no issue with you going to check on your friend. Though may I be selfish and request that you make it quick?”

Grinning, Evie agreed and she surged forwards on her hands and knees to kiss the man she loved. She could actually feel Cullen smiling as she claimed his lips and it made her feel that little bit lighter.

“Alright,” she sighed, pulling away after a moment. “I’ll go now, that way I should be back just in time.”

She slipped off the bed, feeling Cullen’s eyes on her as she made her way across the bedroom. Taking a long chemise and robe from her wardrobe, she proceeded to dress hastily before reaching for the door. She paused with her fingers on the handle and glanced back over her shoulder to see Cullen still watching her from the bed. Once, back when they had first been together, he might have blushed at being caught staring. Now, though, he simply smirked, a lazy, contented thing that lifted one corner of his mouth and drew attention to that fascinating scar on the other. Evie bit her lip and he winked, making her giggle. She shook her head, slipping out into the corridor with a silly smile all over her face.

The marble floor was cool on her bare feet and she walked hastily to room at the very end of the corridor. Experience had taught her to knock – and hard. She heard movement on the other side of the door and it opened a crack, revealing a glimpse of her fellow mage looking sleep ruffled and still in his night things.

“I see I’m not the only one having a lazy morning.” She grinned, as Dorian stood back to admit her, stifling a yawn. “I just came by to see how you were feeling. You were resting last night, right?”

Evie stepped cautiously into his room, though she needn’t have worried: Max was nowhere to be seen.

“I’m fine, thanks to you,” the Tevinter assured her. He stalked past her and sank down onto the edge of his bed. “A little tired but none the worse for wear. And don’t worry,” he added, grinning wickedly up at her. “The only one getting fucked into a mattress last night was you, amicus.”

Evie’s eyes widened and she felt her face heat with embarrassment.

“How in Andraste’s name do you know that?” she hissed, and she was not in the slightest bit comforted by his scandalised laugh.

“Evie, darling,” he snickered, “I think they might have heard you in the servant’s wing, you were that loud.”

Evie groaned and scrubbed a hand down her face. She eased herself down onto the bed beside Dorian, shaking her head.

“I really need to start putting a ward on that door,” she muttered. “Can’t say I’m particularly sorry, though.”

“I should hope not,” Dorian smirked, his eyes twinkling. “Now, forgive my brusqueness, but what can I do for you? Your dear brother is abandoning me again today and I wish to have my fill of him before he disappears.”

“Looks like he might have done already,” Evie quipped and she laughed at the flat look he levelled her way.

“He’s shaving,” said the Altus, as though it should have been obvious. Evie chuckled.

“Alright,” she conceded. “Only teasing. Like I said, I came to see if you were feeling better. Do you mind if I…?” Evie held out a hand, asking his permission to examine him.

“Can’t keep your hands off me, can you?” Dorian winked. “Go ahead, amicus. Do as you will.”

Evie nodded and she pressed her outstretched hand to his forehead, feeling for any signs of a lingering fever. His temperature seemed normal and, satisfied, she moved on to his abdomen, checking for any swelling.

“I’m rather glad you called by, actually,” Dorian admitted. Evie gestured for him to lie down and he did so, flopping back against the mattress. “You brother and I got to talking last night. About us.”

Evie paused at that and she glanced up at Dorian’s face, looking for any signs of distress.

“Good talking?” she asked, frowning. To her relief, the Tevinter smiled, a small, shy little gesture she had never seen from him before.

“Very good actually,” he confirmed. “He… told me he loves me.”

Evie very nearly squealed with excitement and she all but threw herself upon her friend, latching her arms around his neck. “Oh, it’s about bloody time!” she giggled, kissing his cheek.

“What do you mean, ‘about bloody time’?” Dorian protested, though he was grinning all the same.

“Oh please,” Evie scoffed. “I have eyes! Do you think I haven’t noticed the way you two look at each other these days? It’s nauseating. And wonderful. I’m so happy for you.”

She pecked Dorian on the cheek again before letting him up, feeling doubly as giddy as she had done when she left her room.

“Thank you,” the mage uttered softly, as he righted himself. “Truly. If you hadn’t been so understanding, we may never have…” Dorian shook his head then, sighing. “I can’t say I ever expected this would ever happen. I find myself in thoroughly unfamiliar territory.”

Evie smiled, taking his hand and squeezing it.

“That’s all part of the fun,” she promised him. “Just take your time. Explore. Savour it. You’ll figure it out together.” Releasing him, she rose from the bed. “You seem fine,” she declared. “I’m quite happy for you to get back to whatever unspeakable things you and my brother get up to.” Dorian chuckled and she winked playfully.

“I am so very relieved,” he responded. “Perhaps I shall see you for lunch? I might have worked up an appetite by then.”

Evie laughed. “I’m sure you will,” she grinned. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go pamper my Templar. Have fun.”

“Likewise,” Dorian smirked and he blew her a kiss as she made for the door, slipping soundlessly out into the corridor beyond.

Cullen was perched on the edge of the bathtub when she got back, adding oils to the steaming water. The scent of jasmine teased her senses and Evie beamed with delight.

“You remembered how I like it,” she exclaimed, delightedly, as she began to undress. Cullen smiled at her and he drew her into his arms the moment she was finished.

“Do you really think I’d ever forget?” he chuckled. “Maker, that scent used to drive me to distraction. I never knew what is was, only that it reminded me of you.”

He kissed her lovingly and Evie hummed with delight, leaning her forehead against his. Her heart fluttered with joy in her chest. How had she managed for so long without him? It was a wonder she was still standing. Even when things were far from perfect, it was so hard to feel despair when in Cullen’s arms. He felt safe, felt right, and even the veritable storm that lingered on her horizon seemed a small and trivial thing when she had him by her side. Her only worry was that, in the face of what was to come, would he remain so?


	28. Doctor in the House

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dorian's illness is becoming bothersome so they send for outside help.

XXV

Doctor in the House

 

 

 

Much to his dismay, Dorian’s clean bill of health did not last long. Not two mornings after Evie had proclaimed him back to normal, he fell ill again. The symptoms were exactly the same: painful stomach cramps followed by persistent vomiting and tremors that lasted for hours after the initial onset. Evie was absolutely at a loss.

“I don’t understand,” she murmured. “You said you felt fine yesterday – and the day before! Where is this coming from?”

Dorian, hunched over a pail as he threw up his lunch, could barely glower in response. They were supposed to be going to see a play, all four of them (with Cullen playing bodyguard, naturally) before Maxwell had to leave for Quarinus again. However, a little after their midday meal, the pains had begun once more and he’d known what was coming. He’d feigned tiredness, suggested a brief nap before their afternoon outing, hoping the rest might head it off. There was nothing for it, though; less than half an hour later, the sickness had started and Maxwell had run straight for Evie.

“Perhaps we should send for another healer,” Max suggested delicately. “No offence, Evie, but-”

“None taken, I assure you,” Evie responded. “Perhaps someone more seasoned than I will know what this is.” She was kneeling beside him, rubbing gentle circles on his back. It did little to help his pain or the eye-watering indignity of publically emptying his stomach for the third time in a week but he appreciated it all the same. Eventually, the heaving lessened and then stopped, leaving him feeling sore and empty and rather short on breath.

“I’m getting incredibly tired of this,” the Tevinter gasped irritably. He pushed the basin away from him and wiped his mouth on the damp cloth Maxwell handed over. “Thank you,” he sighed, trying and failing to downplay the way he was trembling. Max kindly removed the remains of his lunch and Evie helped him to his feet, assisting his wobbly steps to the bed.

“Just take it easy,” Evie suggested. “Until we know what’s causing this, you should rest and just try to stick to simple foods – water, plain bread and the like. Something in your diet might be exacerbating it.”

“Plain bread and water, lucky me,” muttered Dorian sarcastically, as Evie began to shuck off his clothing. She was getting pretty quick at it by now, Dorian noticed with a humourless snort; she could probably give Maxwell a run for his money.

“I’m going to go into the city and see if I can get someone to come immediately,” Max announced, as he stepped out of the washroom, setting the now empty basin down on the dresser. “They need to see you now, love, as opposed to in a few hours, when you’re back to normal.”

It was a sign of how lousy he was feeling that Dorian agreed without a fuss. “Alright,” he sighed. “I… I’m sorry amatus. I wanted us to do something nice today. All of us.”

“Don’t you apologise,” Max smiled tenderly. “What matters to me is getting to the bottom of this and getting you well again. Evie, you’ll stay here?” the Marcher asked his sibling.

“Of course,” Evie promised. “I’ll do what I can.”

“Do you want me to take Cullen?” her brother wondered. “I know he likes to get out when he can.”

Evie gave a soft laugh.

“He’s actually napping,” she admitted, fondly. “I’ve left him a note for when he wakes up.”

“Alright.” Max nodded, and he circled the bed to come to Dorian’s side, placing a kiss on the mage’s forehead. Dorian cringed internally, dreading to think what he might smell like after such a debacle, not that Max seemed to care. “Take it easy,” the rogue instructed him. “I’ll be back before you know it. I love you.”

Almost immediately, Dorian felt himself blush, in spite of everything. He still wasn’t used to hearing it out loud, especially in front of the others. “I love you too, you insufferable sap,” he muttered, and Maxwell chuckled. “Now get gone. I’m suffering here, don’t you know?”

“I’m going, I’m going,” Max smiled, holding his hands up in playful surrender. “Love you too, sis,” he added, with a grin at his sister.

“Tolerate you,” Evie shot back, making him laugh, and he slipped out of the room, leaving them alone. Evie turned to him then, a green glow flickering into existence around each of her hands.

“Are you still in pain?” she asked, her brow crumpled in concern. He was, though admittedly the cramps always lessened after he’d been sick. That they were still there indicated there was more fun to come. Sighing, he lay back on the pillows, uttering a groan as his stomach lurched unpleasantly at the change in position. Evie inched forward on her knees. She knelt beside him and he closed his eyes as the blissful tingle of healing magic washed over him.

“You certainly don’t do things by halves, do you?” Evie commented, and her voice sounded a little sad. Her spell was working, lessening the pain in his middle, but he knew she couldn’t truly heal him, knew the pain would come back the moment she stopped.

“You don’t have to do this, you know,” he sighed. “You’re going to exhaust yourself. I can cope with the pain until it passes.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” the redhead scoffed. “I won’t stand by and see you hurting as long as I can do something about it. We have lyrium potions if I start to flag.”

Dorian opened an eye at that, regarding her sceptically. “The lyrium potions you refuse to take?” he pointed out.

“I try not to,” Evie admitted. “It’s not fair on Cullen. But if it’s important, you know I will.”

Dorian’s lips curved in a tremulous smile. He often counted himself fortunate to have Evie as a friend; now was no exception. The whole illness thing was getting tiresome. He was missing vital debates at the Circle, not to mention time spent on his research.  He was so close to getting that coveted Senior Enchanter position. He couldn’t afford to be out of commission because of a pesky bout of stomach flu, or whatever his ailment may be.

“Maker’s breath,” he sighed. “I can’t take much more of this. What in the Void do you suppose is wrong with me?”

“I wish I could tell you, darling,” Evie responded. “Maybe it might be wise to consider putting off this little soiree of yours until we know you’re better.”

“No,” said Dorian flatly. “I’m already at a disadvantage because of this blighted condition, I shan’t let it deprive me further. We’re having the party, even if I have to duck out between courses to throw up.”

Evie bit her lip but she evidently decided not to argue, for which he was thankful. He didn’t need to be treated like he was made of glass. He simply needed a cure – and quickly.

The healing spell might not have cured him but it worked a treat for relieving his pain. Indeed, Dorian was just starting to get drowsy, enjoying the gentle caress of Evie’s fingers upon his skin, when the nausea returned with a vengeance.

“Oh no, not again,” he groaned, sitting up hastily. “Evie, I-”

“On it!” Evie cried and she was indeed moving, scrambling off the end of the bed to the dresser. She snatched up the basin had left there and she had it in front of him just as the unpleasant prickling began in the back of his throat. Without her healing magic there to soothe them, his cramps returned full force and within moments, he was vomiting again. This time it hurt. There was little left in his stomach after the first incident and the acrid taste of bile filled his mouth, burning the back of his throat. He vaguely registered Evie talking, her voice an attempt at soothing, though he didn’t quite catch the words. His fingers clawed at the bedsheets. He could feel tears leaking down his cheeks involuntarily and, by time it abated, he was gasping for air like a drowned man.

“Let me get you some water,” said Evie sympathetically, when the retching eventually stopped. Dorian leaned, panting, over the basin. His stomach churned and an unpleasantly wet burp escaped him, though mercifully nothing else.

“I’m alright,” he gasped, at Evie’s worried look. “Well, I’m not throwing up anymore at least.”

“Try and drink something,” the redhead advised, kindly, and she handed him a cup of water. “I know it’s hard but it’ll be better than chucking up bile if it happens again.”

Dorian eyed the cup reluctantly, not really wanting to add fuel to the fire. However, he knew she was right and he took a couple of tentative sips, grumbling as it settled like lead in his ailing stomach.

“Good,” smiled Evie, wanly. “Now, let me just go and get rid of this and then we can get to healing you again.”

The Tevinter nodded gratefully. He sat back on his haunches, sipping his water and gently massaging at the pain in his middle. There was a light knock on the door and it opened, Cullen slipping soundlessly into the room. He was carrying a tall mug and he looked a little bashful standing on the threshold.

“Evie said you were ill again,” he said, and yes, there was definitely a pink glow to those well-defined cheeks. “I… I brought you… it’s nothing special really…”

He approached the bed then and Dorian got a whiff of a very familiar scent.

“It’s just iced water with a little crushed peppermint,” the blonde shrugged. “We give it to recruits to help ease the initial lyrium sickness. It does help but if you don’t want-”

“Thank you, Cullen,” Dorian said, with an attempt at a smile. “That is very sweet of you.”

He was surprised and admittedly a little touched by the former Templar’s gallantry – just when he was beginning to think the man didn’t really care for him. The mage set down his plain water on the night stand and accepted the drink from Cullen with trembling hands. It was shockingly cold in his hand. He took a curious sip and he groaned with delight at the subtle flavour of peppermint flooding his mouth, washing away the bitter bile.

“Oh that is heavenly,” he sighed, relishing the way the coldness soothed his ragged throat. “You sweet, sweet man.”

“It’s nothing,” Cullen murmured, clearly embarrassed. “I just wanted to help. How are you feeling?” And, continuing his streak of being perplexing, the blonde reached out and pressed a cool hand to Dorian’s forehead. Dorian froze. “Hmm, you’re warm,” noted Cullen. “Would you like me to open a window for you?”

“Erm no, thank you,” mumbled Dorian, and he had to try very hard to speak. “I think your little remedy will cool me down in no time.”

Cullen gave him a thoughtful look, his hand still on Dorian’s forehead. The mage felt sure it was the first time the other man had ever so much as touched him. At any other time, he might have been a little thrilled by the contact. However, feeling as he did, the most he could summon was curiosity. Where was this coming from?

He met Cullen’s eyes and the blonde seemed to come to his senses, pulling his hand away hastily.

“Alright,” he murmured. “Well, at least let me help you get comfortable.” He slipped off his boots and crawled onto the bed then, where he began to fluff Dorian’s pillows. “Where’s Evie?” he asked.

“In the washroom,” the mage replied, after a moment of hesitation. “She’s just… well, she’ll be back in a moment.”

Cullen nodded and he held out a hand to the mage, who took it, a touch bewildered. The blonde helped him into a comfortable position of recline, fluffing and adjusting the pillows until Dorian was satisfied.

“You really don’t have to do this, you know,” Dorian murmured, wincing against a fresh wave of pain.

“I want to help,” the former Templar insisted. “I’m aware we didn’t get off to the warmest of starts… which was my fault, of course. I… just wanted to make amends.”

The washroom door opened at that moment and Dorian peeked up beneath his lashes to see Evie pause in the doorway. Her eyes flickered between him and Cullen and then back again and a slow, warm smile spread across her face. She ducked her head, apparently declining to comment, and made her way to his side of the bed.

“All sorted,” she declared, setting down the now clean basin on the night stand. “Now let’s get back to that healing, shall we?”

“Amicus, you don’t have to-” Dorian began but he fell silent when he caught a glimpse of her face. He knew that expression. It was her ‘I’m every bit as stubborn as my brother and I will dig my heels in if I have to’ face. He’d learned it was easier not to argue. So he simply leaned back against the pillows and allowed Evie to work her magic. He couldn’t deny, the relief was welcome. Between the sweet iced water and the pleasant lull of Evie’s magic, he found himself drifting off.

When he next opened his eyes, Maxwell was standing over the bed, smiling tenderly at him.

“It’s alright Evie,” he murmured. “You can stop. We’ve got it from here.”

Dorian felt Evie’s aura rescind over his skin and, almost immediately, the cramping pain set in again. He groaned, clutching his stomach, eyes flickering to his friend. She looked pale and she was shaking from the effort of sustaining the spell.

“How long have I been asleep?” the Tevinter mumbled, sitting up. “Evie, there was no need to-”

“There was every need to,” Evie smiled, though tremulously. “I’m alright, don’t worry.”

“We’re more concerned about you,” said Cullen. He looked like he wanted to pull Evie into his arms and, for a moment, Dorian wondered what was stopping him. Then he noticed the figure standing at the foot of his bed. The woman had to have been about the same age as his mother, though he couldn’t deny Aquinea wore her years a little better. This woman’s dark hair was streaked with grey but it was very neatly styled, twisted up into elegant knots on top of her head. Her contrastingly simple green robes denoted her as a healer. Maxwell stepped aside to allow her to approach the bed.

_“Lord Pavus,”_ she addressed him, bowing politely. _“Galatea Aelius. Your brother-in-law informs me you’ve been unwell. I am here to help.”_

_“If indeed you can,”_ Dorian sighed. He swung his legs out over the edge of the bed, reeling against the sudden wave of nausea. Galatea knelt swiftly before him and fixed him with a genial expression.

_“Relax, my Lord,”_ she bid him. _“Just keep still, I’ll do all the moving. Could you tell me what’s been the problem?”_

Dorian gave her a brief recount of his symptoms and when they first appeared. The healer listened with a slight frown on her face, apparently as puzzled as he was.

_“Alright,”_ she murmured. _“There’s a few things that spring to mind… however I can’t be sure of anything without further information. Would you consent to a brief physical examination, my Lord?”_

_“Naturally,”_ the Tevinter sighed. He was not too keen on the idea of being poked and prodded in such a delicate state but if it helped get to the bottom of things, he would endure. The healer glanced briefly at Cullen and Max, who were standing together at the foot of the bed. “ _It’s fine_ ,” Dorian told her. “ _They’re family_.” Galatea nodded and, with his permission, proceeded to examine him. She was mercifully gentle. She checked his throat and his temperature before delicately palpitating his abdomen.

“ _I understand your wife has been healing you, my Lord?_ ” she asked, as she felt just below his ribs.

“ _Attempting to,”_ Evie corrected. “ _It’s apparent magical healing has little effect other than to numb the pain.”_

_“You do excellent work, my Lady,”_ praised Galatea. _“It’s just a pity it didn’t much help.”_

She concluded her examination swiftly, though the all the prodding seemed to have irritated Dorian’s stomach once more. He had to close his eyes against a strong surge of nausea.

_“So what’s your diagnosis?”_ asked Evie, kneeling beside him and knowingly taking his hand, squeezing it tight.

_“It’s hard to say,”_ the healer admitted. _“With the exception of a little swelling to your stomach, which is hardly unusual given your symptoms, there seems to be nothing out of order. Considering what you’ve told me, Lord Pavus, I’d be inclined to believe you’ve developed some sort of food intolerance. I recommend keeping a journal of what you’ve consumed, see if you can’t deduce what is causing it. I’d also advise you to avoid alcohol for the time being, as it may be exacerbating the symptoms.”_

The healer issued him a couple of tonics, promising they would restore his constitution after bouts of sickness. She also instructed that, if things were to continue after a couple of weeks or if they in any way worsened, he should send for her immediately. Dorian thanked her weakly, shaking her hand, before Maxwell ushered her out of the bedroom.

“Are you alright?” asked Evie, cautiously. “That can’t have been comfortable for you.”

“Something of an understatement, my dear,” Dorian grumbled. Cullen and Evie came to his aid then and they eased him back onto the comfort of his pillows. His stomach churned dangerously for a moment. He threw out a hand to ward them away, though it thankfully subsided. “I’m fine,” he sighed. Had been of a better temperament, he might have been amused by the identical expressions of alarm on Cullen and Evie’s faces.

“What can we do for you, Dorian?” Evie murmured. “Do you want me to heal you again?”

“No, no need expend yourself unnecessarily,” the Tevinter responded. “We both know it’ll pass, soon enough.”

Cullen huffed a laugh, sitting down on the bed at Dorian’s side.

“You two are as stubborn as each other,” he chuckled and, for the second time that afternoon, he reached out to touch the mage, tentatively running his fingers through Dorian’s hair. Dorian glanced wildly at Evie, who only offered him an indulgent smile in lieu of any sort of explanation. She perched on the very edge of the mattress and just like that, Dorian found himself penned in from either side. It was a little worrying but mostly, to his surprise, rather comforting. Evie ignored his refusal of her aid and began drag a softly glowing hand over his middle.

By the time Maxwell returned to the room, Dorian was almost criminally relaxed, albeit rather sore. He glanced up when his amatus entered the room and couldn’t help but chuckle at Max’s bewilderment. The Marcher took in the sight of the couple fawning over his lover and his reaction went from astonishment to ill-concealed glee in a matter of seconds.

“My, my, don’t we all look cosy,” Max purred. Cullen pulled back a little, looking faintly embarrassed but Evie’s eyes were glittering with the exact same mischief that were in her brother’s. Dorian dreaded to imagine what they were thinking. “How are you feeling, love?” asked Maxwell, seating himself at Dorian’s feet.

“The vomiting seems to have stopped, which is always a plus,” Dorian muttered. “I’m not impressed that she expects me to give up wine, though.”

“It’s only for a couple of weeks,” Evie laughed. She pulled her glowing hands away and, by some small mercy, the cramps did not return.

“It’ll be worth it, if we get to the bottom of this,” said Max, soothingly. “Anyway, seeing as we’re all here, I might as well talk to you now. It seems that my trip to find a healer has come up trumps in more way than one.”

Dorian frowned at that. “What do you mean, amatus?” he asked, curiously. Max shot him an excited grin.

“Well,” he began, “when I walked in to her clinic, Galatea was treating an infant with a cough. The mother was trying to feed the child a potion off a spoon and, of course, the kid was crying and it was going everywhere. So the healer disappears off into the back and comes back with this.” He produced a peculiar item, a cylindrical glass tube which was fitted with a little brass nozzle at one end and a brass plunger at the other. “She called it a syringe, I think,” Max explained. “Not that the name particularly matters. Apparently they’re hard to get hold of - I had to beg her to sell me one.”

“What exactly did you want with it?” Dorian wondered aloud. “I think you’ll find _I’m_ quite capable of taking my tonics off a spoon, thank you very much.”

“I know, love,” laughed Max. “I didn’t buy it for that.” He glanced down at the syringe in his hand then back up at them all, triumph clear in his features. “I think,” he breathed, “I’ve found the solution to our little baby-making problem.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, Maker forgive me for the little hints of Cullrian. I just couldn't help myself!! (Incidentally, there should be some follow up on that popping up in The Extended Cut later tonight, providing I get chance to finish it). So cute and awkward <3 
> 
> And yes, we have a solution to Project Heir at last. Sorry to those of you who were hoping they'd just get drunk and crawl into bed together but there a numerous reasons why I couldn't let that happen... yet. ;) Oh, and just to clarify, that syringe does not have a needle on it! The syringe has been around since the Roman times, in some form or other; the hypodermic needle was not invented until some time in the 1800s. So don't worry, no one's planning on stabbing Evie in the lady parts. ^_^


	29. Into the Vipers' Nest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen accompanies Dorian to the Minrathous Circle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Omg... so tired...
> 
> Apologies if I've made any glaring errors here. I've suffered a few distractions tonight so I've had to work later than usual to get the chapter finished. Hope it's ok! 
> 
> As ever, thanks for reading, guys. ^_^ You're awesome.

XXVI

Into the Vipers' Nest

 

Though he was still less than thrilled at the idea of Evie carrying another man’s child, Cullen had to admit that Max’s plan was much better than the alternative. He’d be a liar if he said the idea of Evie and Dorian sleeping together didn’t make him sick with envy. This way, at least, he could be involved in the process. Someone would have to administer the… well, someone would have to put certain things in certain places and if anyone was going to do it, Cullen was adamant it would be him.

Evie had been rather quiet about the whole thing thus far. Cullen knew she too was relieved that she wouldn’t have to bed her friend. However, her qualms about it all ran deeper than just that. She was afraid of becoming a mother, as she’d admitted tearfully to Cullen last night. It wasn’t a matter she’d ever given much thought. Circle mages did not have the option, after all. And of those idle moments where she had dared to wonder, Cullen doubted she’d ever imagined motherhood would begin like this.  

As it was, they’d all agreed to give it until the pinnacle of Evie’s next cycle before beginning to try. It was a little too late this month and Dorian was still recovering from his bouts of illness. Everyone was happy to wait; it gave them a touch more time to prepare.

Meanwhile, Dorian seemed to be in better health at last. He was taking the healer’s advice – however begrudgingly – and he was of a much better constitution for it. It had been four days and, thus far, he’d had no more sudden attacks of malaise.

“So, does this mean you’re back to your usual, charming self?” asked Cullen dryly one evening, over a game of chess. He’d recently discovered the Tevinter had quite a skill for the game and playing after dinner was fast becoming routine for them both. With Maxwell gone back to Qarinus, Dorian often seemed at a loss in the evenings and Cullen, partly out of pity, partly out of the desire to please Evie, had been quick to engage him. That he was actually enjoying the man’s company was a pleasant surprise.

“That’s right,” the mage smirked, as he carefully slid his pawn a couple of spaces across the board. “I’ve been going easy on you lately in my weakened state. No more. You shall feel the full force of my teasing ways.”

“I’m positively trembling,” Cullen smirked. He picked up his queen and promptly took the poor pawn that Dorian had just sacrificed. Dorian frowned, glancing over his shoulder at Evie, who was lying on one of the couches with a book in her hands.

“What have you done to him?” the mage protested. “He’s gone from blushing schoolboy to hardened warrior in a matter of weeks! It’s no fun if I can’t get a rise out of him…”

Evie laughed, peering at them both over the top of her book. “You’ll just have to up your game, amicus,” she suggested. “I’m sure you can think of something.”

“Oh, I’m sure I can,” Dorian agreed, and his voice was a deliberate, sensual purr. Cullen simply shook his head. As flustering as the mage’s words could be sometimes they were just that: talk. The blonde knew that by now and he was quickly learning how to hold his own.

Of course, now that Dorian was well again, it meant that he could return to his duties at the Circle. This meant taking Cullen, his ‘bodyguard’, along with him, a plan that caused Evie a little jealousy of her own.

“I can’t believe you’re taking Cullen but you won’t take me,” Evie sulked over breakfast, the morning they were to head out. She nudged her food sullenly around her plate, her plump lips pursed in an undeniable pout.

“Ah, look at you, so adorable,” Dorian chuckled. “You know why I’m taking him, amicus. If anyone’s going to believe he’s my security, it would help for him to be seen in my presence, would it not?”

“Well, fine,” Evie conceded, “but why can’t I go too?”

Cullen chuckled into his morning tea. It was times like these that he could really believe Evie was six years his junior; she reminded him of a child denied their favourite treat. He had to admit, it was a little endearing.

“But you have been, Evelyn,” Dorian reminded her patiently. “I took you to the Parvulis Ball, remember?”

“Oh, that was just the shiny, public façade,” Evie scoffed. “I want to see where the real action happens! And don’t call me Evelyn!”

“Cullen calls you Evelyn,” the Tevinter protested, pointing his fork accusingly at her.

“Cullen’s allowed to,” Evie shot back, with a look of supreme smugness. “He knows how to make it sound good.”

The blonde’s eyes widened at that. Dorian almost choked on his food from laughing and Evie had to abandon her half-eaten meal to go pat him on the back. Cullen felt himself flush but refused to be embarrassed; it was always worse if the mage knew he was uncomfortable.

“See, this is precisely why I adore you,” said Dorian, between careful sips of water. He set down his goblet and turned his head, pressing a kiss to Evie’s cheek. “You’re still not coming,” he added. Evie scowled

“Stubborn arse,” she muttered, giving him a half-hearted shove.  “Fine, be that way. I don’t need your permission, anyway. They know who I am. I can’t be the first wife to surprise her husband while he’s working.”

Cullen knew she was bluffing. If Dorian didn’t want her there, she would never impose herself. The Tevinter fell for it, though, hook, line and sinker.

“Don’t you dare!” he gasped. “Evie, I don’t think you understand...” Dorian sighed, shaking his head with exasperation. “Alright,” he muttered. “If you promise me that you won’t go sneaking into the Circle alone, I promise that I will find a way for us all to attend the Satinalia festival together. Is that acceptable?

Evie’s face split into a sunny smile, her expression so bright and hopeful that Cullen couldn’t help but be warmed by it.

“You mean, we can actually go as us? No lying, no theatrics?” she breathed, eagerly.

“That’s the beauty of a celebration where one is required to wear masks,” Dorian smirked and then he laughed as he found himself set upon by a delighted Evelyn.

“Yes! A thousand times yes!” she cried, wrapping her arms around the Tevinter’s neck and kissing his cheeks. Cullen smiled and turned his attention back to his tea. He was gradually getting used to Evie and Dorian’s unique rapport. It wasn’t as though his jealously had upped and disappeared overnight, exactly. No, he still got a little envious from time to time. However, he was beginning to understand that it was just how they were. It didn’t mean anything, no more than Dorian and Maxwell flirting with him meant anything. He was getting there.

“Alright, alright, enough!” laughed Dorian, dislodging himself from Evie’s grasp. “I am wonderful and you love me, I know. Now, if you’ll kindly let me go, I need to collect a few things before we depart. Are you almost ready?” he asked the blonde. Cullen nodded, draining the last of his tea and setting the cup down on its saucer.

“I’m just going to grab a few things myself,” he declared. “Meet you by the door in five minutes?”

“Five minutes,” Dorian agreed, and he strode out of the dining hall, his elaborate robes swishing dramatically behind him.

Cullen made a brief trip down to the servants’ quarters, where the bunk he’d never slept in sat as neatly made as ever. There was a trunk at the foot of the bed, in which all of his belongings, including the things he’d brought with him from Ostwick, were kept. He rummaged carefully amongst the folded garments and pulled out a short, slender dagger in its sheath. The hilt glittered with veins of viridium and the Templar emblem was emblazoned upon the pommel. It was a rare weapon, designed specifically for use against mages in that it could drain them of their mana the moment it pierced their skin. Cullen removed his boot and carefully strapped the thing to his ankle. There was no way he was going into that pit of vipers without a weapon, especially now he no longer had access to his abilities. Something odd was afoot with Dorian and his mystery illnesses, and Cullen suspected the source was not an allergy as much as a jealous rival. Of course, he had no proof, so he’d kept his suspicions to himself thus far. This was his chance to find some and, if his hunch proved correct, he did not want to face whomever was responsible defenceless. 

He returned to the house proper and found Dorian waiting for him in the hallway, Evie at his side. She smiled a strained sort of smile when she saw him approach and he welcomed her into his arms.

“Promise me you’ll stay close together,” she entreated him, cupping his jaw and looking up into his eyes. He could see the worry in hers and it never failed to make him feel cherished.

“I promise,” he murmured. He pressed a tender kiss to her lips before letting her go, squeezing her hand reassuringly.

“Ready, then?” he asked of Dorian, who was swathed in a high-collared cloak of black and gold. It was a good thing he was playing the role of servant, Cullen thought, for nothing he owned could match up to the sheer decadence of Dorian’s clothing. The mage cracked a winning smile, and he gestured to the door.

“Remember, be a good girl,” he said to Evie, as Cullen opened the door for them both. “And if you happen to bake some more of those delicious lemon cakes, then I’ll make it worth your while… say, dress shopping tomorrow afternoon?”

“You’ve got yourself a deal, messere,” Evie smiled. She went to the door with them and Cullen could feel her eyes on them both as they descended the foyer stairs.

“She worries for you,” Dorian observed with a smile. “Adorable, really.”

“I can handle myself,” replied Cullen. “She knows that.”

Still, knowing the woman he loved worried about him was comforting, in a strange sort of way. He only hoped she was worrying for naught.

A carriage was waiting outside for them as they left the palazzo. The footman bowed low to Dorian and opened the narrow door, admitting the mage. Cullen followed close behind. He wasn’t overly fond of travelling by carriage, preferring to be on horseback in the open air than to languish in a glorified box on wheels. However, Dorian had made it abundantly clear that nobles in the city did not ride around on horseback like outlaws.

“Are you quite prepared for this?” the Tevinter asked, as the carriage lurched into motion. It was genuine question rather than a jibe, one laced with actual concern.

“I’ve no idea what exactly to expect,” Cullen admitted, with a grim smile. “I am prepared, however, for it to be unpleasant. No offence,” he added.

“You Southern Templars are trained to view us as threats,” shrugged Dorian. “I can’t imagine that’s an easy habit to rid oneself of. Just understand, it’s not always the case. The exception rather than the rule.”

“I know,” Cullen nodded.  

“There… will be lyrium,” Dorian added, with a sympathetic wince.

“I figured as much,” Cullen sighed. “Don’t worry. I’m not a rabid animal, I can control myself.”

“I never thought so for a moment. I was merely concerned that it will be difficult for you.”

“Oh it will, I’m certain,” said Cullen. “But I can endure.”

At least, he hoped he could.

Mercifully, he was distracted from all thoughts of lyrium when they arrived at the Circle a short while later. Cullen could only stare, part way between awe and horror at the building before them. It was clearly ancient, half-formed in places, crumbling in others. One side was covered entirely in exotic climbing flowers, adding a burst of purple and white to the sand-coloured stone. It was quite clear that magic was the only thing keeping certain parts of it up. Cullen found it eerie and beautiful and a little concerning all at the same time.

“Magnificent, isn’t it?” Dorian beamed fondly, glancing up at the impressive edifice. “Once a temple to Old Gods, don’t you know?”

“It’s really something,” admitted Cullen. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt that,” the Tevinter chuckled. “I’ve seen Southern architecture; leaves much to be desired. Shall we?”

He made a brief gesture with his hand and began to head for the grand doors, which were so tall they could easily had admitted a trio of ogres sitting on each others’ shoulders. Cullen followed, at Dorian’s side but technically a step behind, as he’d been instructed. The thrum of magic in the air was almost palpable. Cullen could feel it crawling all over his skin and it raised his hackles instinctively. His mind went immediately to the dagger in his boot. He only hoped that he could get to it fast enough, should the need arise.

Dorian led him through an impressive vestibule, large enough to constitute as a generous dwelling in itself. The place was swarming with mages, the aura of magic almost stifling. Cullen loosened his collar surreptitiously and forced himself to breathe deep and slow.

“Are you well?” Dorian asked quietly, nodding to a younger man dressed all in purple who’d hailed him.

“I’m managing,” was Cullen’s reply, through gritted teeth. “Let’s just hurry up and get somewhere a bit quieter, hm?”

Dorian seemed happy to oblige. He led the way towards a sweeping marble staircase, dodging several people who seemed keen to engage him in conversation. However, as they ascended the steps, someone coming down stepped directly in front of them, stopping them in their tracks. Cullen’s eyes raked over the form of a woman, blonde-haired and svelte, dressed in an elegant gown of teal and black, of sapphires and feathers. She was stately and attractive and, if Cullen had to be honest, probably a little bit older than them both.

“Mae!” Dorian exclaimed, and he seemed genuinely pleased to see her, which put Cullen at ease. “Fancy seeing you here!”

Dorian greeted her in common and she responded in kind, probably realising it was for Cullen’s benefit.

“A stroke of luck indeed,” the blonde woman smiled, and it was a warm thing, not the hollow, false thing he’d come to expect of nobles. “You look wonderful, darling, I am glad; I hear you’ve been unwell?”

“Unfortunately, yes,” sighed Dorian. “Come, let us get out of the way and we can talk properly.”

They continued on up the staircase and, once on the gallery above, Dorian pulled them both to one side.

“Is there something you’re not telling me, Dorian?” the blonde woman asked, as the three of them huddle in an alcove. “From your last letter, I got the impression you were rather smitten with your dark-haired Southern rogue. Don’t tell me you’ve had a change of heart?”

Cullen’s brows raised in surprise, even as Dorian chuckled.

“Nothing of the sort,” the Tevinter smirked. “Mae, this is Cullen Rutherford, or Haydn, as you will more often hear me call him in public. He is, officially, my personal guard.”

“And unofficially?” she asked, lips quirking in amusement.

“My wife’s Templar lover,” Dorian murmured, with obvious relish. “Cullen, this is Magister Maevaris Tilani. She’s a friend – don’t worry, she knows everything.”

“A pleasure to meet you, Haydn,” she winked, proffering him a gloved hand. Cullen took it with all the gentleness he’d been taught and raised it to his lips, kissing the line of her knuckles.

“The pleasure is mine, Magister,” he uttered softly.

“Oh, I like this one,” Maevaris chuckled. Her blue eyes glittered with mischief and Cullen could see at once why this woman and Dorian would be friends; they seemed very much alike. She turned to her fellow mage then, her mirth giving way to a slight frown. “So the rumours were true then?” she asked. “You have been unwell?”

“Yes but I’m fine now,” said Dorian, with an impatient wave of his hand. “See?” he said, indicating himself with a flourish. “The very picture of health and beauty.”

The magister did not seem convinced.

“Do be careful, my dear,” she implored, quietly. “This place is filled with people who would not hesitate to take advantage of you in a weakened state.”

“Oh I know it,” Dorian chuckled. “But truly, I am fine. Rather glad to be back, actually. I dread to think how things have progressed without me. At least it shan’t take me long to catch up.”

They said their goodbyes to Magister Tilani, who Dorian promised he would see at the party, if not sooner. Cullen then found himself being led through a mercifully quieter wing of the building, though there were still plenty of people passing them in the corridors. Some of them greeted Dorian. Some of them didn’t. Most of them looked at him, though Cullen wasn’t sure if this was because they knew of him or because he was so… well, Dorian. They passed a storeroom and Cullen didn’t need to see inside the ornately carved door to know there was a great deal of lyrium inside. He could sense it as much as smell it, his skin coming out in goose bumps, his mouth watering, his stomach cramping horribly. Cullen winced but he walked through the pain, knowing it would eventually ease as they passed.

“My apologies,” Dorian murmured, when he noticed Cullen’s distress. “I should have warned you about that.”

“It’s fine,” muttered Cullen. “Just… keep moving.”

It was only a little further down the corridor before they were stopping, Dorian pulling an ornate brass key from a pouch on his belt. He murmured softly to himself, words too quiet for the blonde to hear. At once, strange glyphs and patterns began to appear on the door, dissolving one by one into glittering dust and dispersing into the air. Only once the last of them was gone did Dorian slip the key into the lock.

“Can never be too careful,” he smirked at Cullen. “After you. This is, as your sweet lady so aptly put it, where the real action happens.”

He winked saucily and Cullen felt his cheeks warm right on cue. Still, he rolled his eyes, refusing to let the mage’s teasing get to him, and stepped over the threshold.

 

*

 

As the day went on, Cullen decided that trying to weed out one jealous, ambitious rival from another was like trying to walk a mile in Ferelden without stumbling across a dog: impossible.

He spent most of his day watching Dorian at work and he could not deny the man seemed intelligent, dedicated to his research. People dropped by constantly and, though there were plenty whose praise and pleasantries did not strike Cullen as genuine, nothing seemed particularly out of place.

Perhaps, then, he had been wrong? Perhaps the source of Dorian’s mysterious condition was someone else – someone in his family, maybe? Or, Cullen supposed, he might be seeing monsters where there were none. It would not have been the first time.

Cullen found himself mulling it over on the carriage ride home. He was unsure whether to keep pulling and hope that eventually something might unravel or to just let it drop, get on with something more important. It was not as though they didn’t have enough to be thinking on, after all.

“Forgive me if I’m mistaken” Dorian spoke up, after a long, yet oddly not uncomfortable, silence, “But you seem almost disappointed. Not what you were expecting of free mages, Knight-Captain? Anticipating more bloody magic and abominations, hm?”

It was said with a smirk and Cullen snorted, shaking his head.

“You could still surprise me on that front,” he chuckled. “No, I…” Cullen hesitated for a moment, unsure if he should tell the mage or not. Having found no evidence, he saw no reason not to bring it up. “Alright,” he said. “Well, I’ve been thinking the last week that perhaps your illness might not have been an illness after all. You’re in line for your promotion, it’s hardly inconceivable that there are people out there who bear you ill will. I was hoping today I might catch a lead. But I’ve seen nothing.”

“Truly, nothing at all?” asked Dorian, surprised. “Oh, don’t look like that,” he added, upon seeing Cullen’s face. “I’ve lived here all my life, I know well enough what folks are like. I did wonder something similar myself at one point.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Cullen asked. “We might have helped.”

“Probably the same reason you didn’t – I saw no reason to alarm anyone without proof.”

“And do you still think you were poisoned?”

Dorian bit his lip thoughtfully for a moment before shaking his head. “It happened too much at home for it to a work-related rivalry,” he declared. “And, as you can see, I’m fine now.”

Cullen nodded.

“Are you going to tell Evie? Or Max?” he asked, eventually.

“Are you?” Dorian shot back. The blonde shook his head.

“I see no reason to burden them all any further,” reasoned Cullen. “We all have much to think about.”

“Yes,” murmured Dorian, and his expression darkened at that. “We do, don’t we?”

The mage glanced out of the window and they both lapsed into another brief silence. It had been just beginning to rain as they left and now fat droplets were pounding the carriage windows, making the air damp and warm and rather unpleasant.

“Dorian,” Cullen began, and the Tevinter glanced up, fixing him with a curious look. “You will tell me if it starts to come back, won’t you? Or if you figure something out? If it is deliberate somehow, we’ll need to get to the bottom of it fast.”

Dorian’s lips curved in a smile. “Why Cullen, it’s almost as if you care?” he gasped, playfully.

“I do care,” Cullen deadpanned, and he found he meant it, which only made it doubly as funny when a surprised Dorian blushed for once.


	30. Forging Ahead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a day of shopping with Dorian, Evie comes home to a pleasant sight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a bit of smutty fluff this time guys, setting up for several big things happening all at once. Hope you enjoy!
> 
>  
> 
> P.S. - The chapter title... I don't even...

XXVII

Forging Ahead 

 

 

“What about this one?”

Evie’s hand lingered over a swatch of shimmering, periwinkle satin. She glanced at Dorian, who was surveying the samples with an ever-critical eye. The tailor’s assistant watched them both with an expression that bordered on desperate. They had been in there for over an hour and it was clear that Dorian’s fastidiousness when it came to fashion was grating on everyone’s nerves.

“No,” the mage decided eventually, and the assistant looked like she wanted to cry. “It’s pretty enough, I suppose, but I think you’d look better in something a little bolder. It is Satinalia, after all. Why don’t we look at some greens? See if we can find one that matches your eyes?”

The assistant nodded and wandered off into the back again. Evie shot Dorian a reproachful look and he smirked; apparently he was well aware of what he was doing.

“They’re going to charge us double at this rate,” she murmured, idly leafing through the designs again. She couldn’t deny, for all his stubbornness, her husband did have excellent taste.

“They can try,” scoffed Dorian. “But I shan’t be paying them another coin unless it’s right, so it’s worth their while to indulge me.”

It was a little over a week until Satinalia and the tailor would have been pressed enough with just Dorian’s outfit to make in time. However, they’d also commissioned clothing for Cullen and Max as well as a show-stopping gown for Evie. The man had almost shouted them out of the shop when they’d handed over the designs. If it wasn’t for the very generous deposit Dorian had thrust under the man’s nose, there might have been bloodshed.

Evie was already incredibly excited. To be able to step out with Cullen on her arm, to act like the couple they were instead of hiding behind lies and alter egos, was a completely novel experience. They’d never been able to so much as stand closely in public, let alone hold hands or dance or kiss. Of course, they would have to wear masks but it was a concession Evie was only too happy to make. The prospects were endless and it was thrilling to think of, even if it was just for one night. She knew Dorian was looking forward to it too. There was a cloud of pressure hanging over all of them lately. Dorian was working hard on his research, eager to rack up as many points in his favour as he could. The big dinner party was scheduled for two days after Satinalia. Not to mention, with Evie’s monthly bleed coming and going, they’d soon have to begin the process of trying for a baby. Evie thought they could all use a chance to unwind – and soon.

“Ah, yes, that one!” Dorian cried, the moment the assistant stepped foot in the shop. He crossed the room like a whirlwind, snatching up a bolt of vivid emerald silk. “That is perfect! What do you think?” he beamed. “Emerald? Flashes of black and silver? Won’t it be wonderful?”

“I trust your judgement, darling,” Evie laughed. “It’s never let me down before.”

“Of course not!” the Tevinter winked. “I have impeccable taste.”

The tailor came forward then and Dorian proceeded to dictate to him exactly what colour he wanted where. Personally, Evie wasn’t too fussed what she’d be wearing: no-one would know it was her, anyway. Though she supposed if she had the sort of gown that Cullen wanted to rip off, then that would be something.

“Alright, we’re done here,” Dorian declared. “Shall we, my sweet?” He held out his hand and Evie took it, all too happy to see the back of the place. “So, we have the outfits for the carnival, the outfits for the party, the masks are on order…” he checked them off on his fingers. “Oh! I almost forgot about your shoes. We should-”

“Oh, Dorian,” Evie sighed. “Stop fussing. I have dozens of pairs of shoes, it will be fine.”

The Tevinter blinked and he glanced down his nose at her, his eyebrow raised.

“You’re blowing off shopping?” he questioned. “Are you feeling alright?”

“I’m fine,” she replied. “We’ve just been out for ages. Even I can only take so much retail therapy in one day.”

They reached their carriage, which was waiting just a little way off from the tailor’s shop. Dorian gave her a peculiar smile as he assisted her in, a look she couldn’t quite decipher.

“Of course,” he conceded, “And this has nothing whatsoever to do with the fact that your strapping Templar is home alone and waiting for you?” Evie bit her lip, trying to think of a less blunt way to answer than ‘yes’. The Altus burst out laughing. “Do you know, I feel like I should be offended,” he chuckled. “Is my company not enough for you anymore?”  

“You know it is,” Evie assured him, and she huddled up next to him in the seat to prove it. “But, now that he’s going out with you during the day, I don’t see him as much anymore. In fact, I’d wager you see more of him than I do.”

“Mmm, I doubt that,” Dorian smirked. “Though, I see your point? Tell me, does it bother you?”

“Does it bother me?” Evie laughed. “Don’t be absurd, I couldn’t be happier that you two are getting along. I knew you’d adore him, given chance. I’m just adjusting to the new schedule, that’s all.”

It was the truth, too. Now that Cullen was accompanying Dorian to the Circle, they were spending a lot more time with each other and Evie could see a friendship sprouting there. Yes, they bickered from time to time – Evie thought it was to be expected, given their almost polar opposite outlooks on life. However, it was a fond, playful bickering, no malice or real aggression. It made her smile and she couldn’t wait for Max to come back and see how well they were getting along.

It was mid-afternoon by the time they made it home. Dorian was leaning on Evie’s shoulder as they stepped into their hallway, yawning like a lion.

“I could rather go for a nap, you know,” he mumbled, as they wandered into the great room. “All that spending is exhausting.”

The great room was surprisingly empty – Cullen had been spending a lot of time perfecting his chess game lately – so the pair of them strolled on through to the west wing, wondering where he might be.

“Want me to come rub your back again?” Evie asked, absently, eyes and ears on the various doors they were passing by, searching for any sigh of her beloved.

“Hm, why don’t you send Cullen to do it instead?” he purred, leaning into her side. “Now that would be delightful.”

Evie chuckled as they passed the study, the locked door evidence that it too was empty.

“You’re getting bawdy again,” she warned, smirking. “Really, Max has been gone less than a week. You’re so high maintenance!” That earned her a shove and very nearly sent her careering into a closet. “And touchy about it too,” she laughed, as she righted herself. Dorian scowled, clearly ready with a witty retort, but a noise from further down the corridor stopped him. They heard the unmistakable sound of steel on wood and they knew at once where they would find Cullen.

The practice room was hot and stuffy as they both stepped inside. Cullen had clearly been in there training for some time. Several of the practice dummies had met their untimely ends at the point of his sword and lay broken in splinters on the marble floor. The man himself was shirtless and glistening with sweat, rolling his shoulders loose, one hand closed tightly around the hilt of his sword. Evie bit her lip at the sight, her pulse picking up with sudden attraction. She was pretty sure she heard Dorian groan beside her.

“Oh, you’re back!” Cullen glanced up and noticed them standing in the doorway. He flashed Evie a smile that made her knees threaten to buckle and he made for the nearest bench, picking up a towel. “Forgive me, love,” he apologised. “I wasn’t expecting you back so soon or I’d have cleaned up by now. How was your trip?”

“Good,” Evie murmured, and she watched his muscles flex under his skin as he rubbed himself down. “So good,” she whispered.

“I’m glad to hear it,” he beamed. “Why don’t I finish up here and we can go and draw a bath, hm? There’s still time before dinner, is there not?”

Evie heard herself saying that there was, though she had no idea why she’d said it. She didn’t want him clean. She wanted him like this, sweating and glowing with exertion. Maker, he looked incredible…

She turned to Dorian then, even as Cullen raised his sword and began to work through another set of motions.

“I love you but you have to get out,” she whispered.

Dorian blinked and he tore his eyes away from the former Templar, with some apparent difficulty

“I’m sorry, what was that?” he asked, distractedly.

“I need you out. Now,” Evie repeated. “Please?” she added, when his brows shot up in surprise.

“Why?” Dorian questioned, though the sly and suspicious tone of his voice suggested he already knew why. Evie sighed through her nose.

“Don’t make me spell it out,” she whispered. “Now, if you please, or I’ll be forced to do it anyway, whether you’re standing there or not.”

Dorian grinned wickedly at that, his lip curling a salacious smile.

“And what if I want to watch?” he murmured.

“Dorian!” Evie whined, prompting a near-silent laugh from the Tevinter.

“All right, all right,” he muttered, grinning. “I shall leave you to it. But you owe me later.”

“Anything you want, I promise,” she beamed. Dorian gave her a look that suggested she might later regret such an offer but did as she asked, slinking silently out of the room and closing the doors behind him. Evie turned gladly back to Cullen then, watching him strike and parry against the motionless wooden form.

“Everything alright?” he asked, panting. “Sounded like you two were squabbling.”

“Oh, everything is fine, believe me,” Evie smirked. She crossed the room then in several long strides. Cullen must have seen her approach, for he lowered his blade, cocking his head in a puzzled expression. He opened his mouth, clearly about to question her, but Evie cut him off with a steamy kiss. She bobbed up on her toes and her arms fastened around his neck. Cullen groaned.

“What’s this all about?” he wondered, when she pulled away. “Not that I’m complaining,” he added, blushing adorably.

“Really, Cullen?” she chuckled. “I come home to find you half naked and sweating with exertion and you wonder why I’m turned on?”

“Just checking,” the blonde murmured, with a half-shrug, and he pulled her in for another kiss, this one slow and deep and utterly tortuous. Evie could feel her body coming alive with desire, felt it settle hot and heavy in her belly. What she wanted most, though, had little to do with her own gratification. She let her fingers trail over his shoulders, journeying down over his sweat-slicked chest and stomach.

“Cullen, I want to suck your cock,” she whispered, between short, hot kisses on his lips. “Right here, right now. How does that sound to you?”

“Really?” he exclaimed, and he pulled back, regarding her with bright, excited eyes. He was blushing a little but Evie could see the want there and knew he was tempted. “Wouldn’t you rather…?” he began, slowly. Evie smiled and she shook her head, kissing the tip of his nose.

“I just want you in my mouth,” she said simply, whilst her fingers ran up and down across his abs. “Anything else can wait. I want to taste you. Is that ok with you?”

“Maker, yes,” the blonde moaned. “You’re so good with your mouth, Evie.”

Evie smiled, her pulse racing at the sign of him growing aroused. Nothing turned her on more than to hear that husky tone to his voice, to see him eyeing her like a hungry jungle cat. She knew how passionate he could be under all his nervousness and it drove her wild. The familiar ache in her body was building, making her wet. It seemed she wasn’t the only one. Cullen’s hot mouth travelled up the column of her throat, nibbling and licking at her pulse. Evie pulled him up to her mouth and stole another fevered kiss. He tasted of wine and chocolate and something else, something uniquely him. The suggestive flickering of his tongue made her sex throb with need and she rubbed her body against him shamelessly.

     “Oh Maker,” she gasped. “Do you have any idea what you’re doing to me?”

     “Me?” he chuckled, breathlessly. “Have you felt this?” And he ground his hips teasingly against her own. Hey eyes widened in surprise and delight to feel his cock rubbing against her, half-hard and stiffening by the second. The urge to rub him through the fabric of his breeches was overpowering and she couldn’t help copping a feel. Cullen grunted in response, bucking into her firm grip.

     “Open them,” Evie commanded, looking him straight in his beautiful, caramel eyes.  

     “Yes ma’am,” he smirked and he wasted no time in obeying, unbuttoning the front of his sweat-dampened breeches. Evie’s eyes dropped and she bit her lip at the sight of him thick and hard against his belly. The urge to push him down and take him inside of her was tantalising. But she wouldn’t – she wanted to please him, this time. With a sultry smile, she sunk to her knees and settled herself between his legs, pulling his trousers down his thighs. Cullen’s breath hitched in anticipation as she took him in hand, marvelling at him. He easily had the most gorgeous cock she’d ever seen. She flicked her tongue over his tip and delighted in his moan. He was just starting to leak and she revelled in the taste as she drew him inch by inch into her mouth. Her throat protested but she fought it back, not stopping until the tip of his cock was sitting snugly at the back of her throat. Then, she began to suck, tongue stroking the underside of his shaft. Cullen groaned and his hand tangled in her hair.

“Oh, Evie,” he gasped. “Maker, that feels so good…”

He grunted as Evie bobbed up and down his shaft, swirling and sucking. The sounds he was making were going straight to her core and she couldn’t resist the urge to reach down with her free hand. Her fingers went between her own thighs, parting her skirts and slipping her smallclothes aside. She was sodden, no surprise, and her fingers glided wetly along her seam. She slipped two inside and used her thumb to nudge her clit. Maker, the noises she was hearing: Cullen’s almost bestial sounds of pleasure, the wet slurp of her mouth around his cock, the sound of her fingers plunging in and out of her wet cunt. It was so loud and it wasn’t long until the blonde, even distracted as he was, actually noticed.

    “Evie,” he panted, squinting down at her. “Are you…? Oh Maker…”

    His hips bucked. The fingers in her hair tightened and he began to fuck her mouth in earnest. Evie hummed with pleasure. She synched the movement of her fingers with the pumping of his hips and soon they were moaning and gasping in unison. Evie was finding it a little difficult to breathe and she knew her lips would be bruised come morning. However, she didn’t care – it was just too hot to see him lose his composure like this. Her gaze flickered upwards, past the throbbing shaft that was crashing into her throat. Cullen’s eyes were closed, his gorgeous face the very picture of wild, untamed lust. She moaned again and wrapped her free hand around the base of his cock. His girth was swelling within her mouth, a sure sign that he was coming undone. His cries grew hoarser and his breath more ragged. Evie recalled how incredible he felt when this happened inside of her and she suckled all the more voraciously. Suddenly, her Chantry-raised lover was cursing like a sailor. His hips jerked erratically and he spilled himself down Evie’s throat. Evie moaned. She swallowed every last drop of his cum, feeling her own orgasm so close, right in front of her. It was Cullen’s shaky, almost sobbing utterance of “Oh, fuck!” that did it. Her passage tightened around her own fingers and he wailed around Cullen’s cock, hearing him whimper as waves upon wave of pleasure wracked her.  

The fingers in her hair loosened after a moment and she felt Cullen gently pulling his prick out of her mouth, gasping at the sensation. Evie opened her eyes to see him looking down at her, pink and panting, his expression one of open amazement.

“You are incredible,” he said, hoarsely, even as she was pulling her fingers out of her cunt. They were glistening wet and she saw his pupils dilate with want. He too dropped to his knees and he was linking her fingers clean, humming delightedly at the taste, before she could even form words.

“Cullen,” she whispered, her breath catching at the powerful sensation. Her heart was racing and her thighs trembled. Cullen released her hand once he’d cleaned it and he pulled her into his arms. She didn’t mind a bit that he was still damp with sweat.

“I’d say let’s go have that bath,” he murmured, “But I’m not sure I can use my legs properly yet.”

Evie chuckled and she kissed him fondly, tenderly.

“It can wait,” she smiled.

 

*

 

Much later that evening, when they were bathed and fed, Evie lay across a couch in the great room, her head in Cullen’s lap and her face buried in one of Dorian’s many fascinating tomes on magic. Cullen was idly playing with her hair, twisting the curls around his fingers. He was playing cards with Dorian for a change, but the Tevinter’s heart didn’t really seem in it. He’d been distracted all evening and Evie couldn’t quite put her finger on what was bothering him. It was beginning to bother her.

“Cullen, love, do you think you could go and get us some camomile tea?” she asked sweetly, fluttering her eyelashes at him.

“What?” he laughed. “Evie why don’t you just call for-” he began but he trailed off at the very pointed look that she shot him. “Right. Yes. Tea,” he murmured. “I’ll… be right back.” Evie sat up and Cullen slipped out of his seat, casting a curious look over his shoulder before wandering off to the kitchens. Once she was sure he’d gone, Evie turned to Dorian, who was looking absently at his cards, not seeming to see them. She moved to sit beside him and felt him jump at her sudden presence.

“Alright, what’s troubling you?” she asked, deciding to get straight to the point.

“Nothing is troubling me,” Dorian replied tonelessly, throwing a card down onto the table. He glanced up and Evie gave him her very best sardonic brow raise.

“Fine,” he sighed. “Maybe there is. But it’s silly and irrelevant so there’s really no point in dragging it up.”

“If it’s making you sad, then it sounds like there is,” Evie reasoned. Still, however, Dorian ventured nothing so she resigned herself to guessing. “Are you feeling ill again?” she asked.

“I’m fine,” he murmured. “As I said, it’s silly and irrelevant.”

Evie frowned and she tried to think back to when the sullen mood had started. He was in perfectly high spirits when she’d kicked him out of the practice room and he seemed happy enough when they’d all sat down for dinner. It was only during the meal that he seemed to have deflated. What had happened during dinner, she wondered. They’d had his favourite dessert, so it couldn’t have been that. He’d not been able to drink wine but they were all abstaining at this point, so as to be fair to him. She and Cullen had been laying it on a bit thick with the physical affection. That didn’t normally bother him but without Maxwell…

“Ohhh,” Evie murmured. “I get it. You miss Max, don’t you?”

Dorian scowled and he looked as though he might snap at her for a moment. However, it never came and he simply sighed.

“I told you it was silly,” he muttered.

“It’s not silly,” Evie assured him and she put her arm around his waist. “You love him, it’s perfectly natural. I’m sorry if we made it worse. You should have told us to knock it off, we understand.”

“Never,” the Tevinter insisted. “You’ve never once asked it of Maxwell and me and I shan’t ask it of you. It isn’t fair.”

“”If it makes you happy, it’s fine,” Evie reasoned. “We had to tone it down for Cullen at first, didn’t we?”

“True but nevertheless. I’m a big boy, I can handle a couple of weeks away from my lover.”

He said it so brightly but there was a flat, dull quality to his eyes that make Evie feel terrible.

“Do you want that backrub still?” she offered, squeezing his waist gingerly. “I can even do your feet if you really like.”

Dorian shook his head. “Thank you but no,” he insisted. “I shall be fine.”

He still looked pretty miserable, however, when Cullen returned with a tea tray and set it down on the low table. He poured them each a cup. Evie handed one to Dorian.

“Thank you,” he said quietly. “I hope you don’t mind, but I think I shall take mine in bed. I’m still a little tired after all that shopping.

“Are you sure?” Evie frowned.

The mage got to his feet, nodding. “Quite,” he nodded. “Goodnight, both of you. I’ll see you at breakfast this morning.

Evie watched him leave for the east wing, his cup curling steam like a trail behind him. It upset her to see him lonely. She remembered how horrible a feeling it was and, even though Dorian’s was only temporary, she knew it too well. Slowly, she turned to Cullen, biting her lip, hardly daring to hope. To his surprise, he was already smiling at her over the rim of his tea cup.

“Go,” he chuckled. “He obviously needs a friend.”

“Really?” Evie asked, amazed. “You mean it?”

 “I mean it,” Cullen insisted. “I must have taken leave of my senses but yes.”

“Oh, thank you, love,” Evie exclaimed, shuffling over to give him a tender kiss. “You’re a saint.”

Cullen laughed at that end Evie bounded off after Dorian. He came to the door with his shirt hanging open and an expression of supreme confusion on his face.

“Everything alright?” he frowned, sipping at his tea.

“Fine,” she grinned. “Come with me.”

She took her friend carefully by his hand and led him back down the corridor to her room. Cullen was just beginning to change too as they walked in through the doors. He glanced up and gave them both a nervous sort of smile.

“What’s this about?” asked Dorian, as Evie continued to pull, leading him to the bed.

“Finish your tea and get in,” she instructed. “You’re sleeping here tonight.”

“Just sleeping,” Cullen added, with amusement in his voice.

“You’re not serious?” Dorian stared from Evie to Cullen and back again with open disbelief, looking like he expected them to laugh. Neither of them did.

“If you want to of course,” Evie added, shyly. “No pressure. We just thought you might want a bit of company.”

Dorian blinked at her for a moment, apparently lost for words. Then he smiled, his eyes brightening up again.  

“Thank you,” he murmured. “You didn’t have to…”

“We wanted to.” Evie beamed. “Just know that the left is Cullen’s side and I’ll be sleeping in the middle. Is that ok?”

“Fine by me,” The Tevinter smirked.


	31. An Exchange of Gifts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dorian wakes up to a pleasant surprise on the morning of Satinalia. It's to be the first of many.

Chapter XXVIII

An Exchange of Gifts

 

 

Dorian woke to the feel of lips pressed against his own, coaxing him into a sensual kiss. He hummed with sleepy, reluctant pleasure, curling his toes and stretching luxuriously in the bed.

“I’d stop if I were you,” he murmured. “I don’t think your lady love will approve.”

“And a Happy Satinalia to you too,” said a familiar, silky voice. “I’m not sure you’re dreaming about, love, but it sounds very kinky.”

Dorian’s eyes fluttered open and a drowsy smile curved his lips as Maxwell’s face swam into view.

“Amatus,” he purred, “you’re home.” And he surged up, wrapping his arms tight around Maxwell’s neck. He felt the rogue settle on top of him, trapping his morning erection between them, and he kissed his lover tenderly.

“Who were you expecting?” Max chuckled. “Should I be jealous?”

“I thought you were Cullen,” Dorian admitted, with a sheepish smile. “Not that he’s ever done that before,” he added, when Max’s brows rose in surprise. “I just… spent a couple of nights in his and Evie’s bed last week. I suppose I thought I was still there.”

“You slept in my sister’s bed? With her lover?” asked the Marcher, and suddenly a prickle of unease cut through Dorian’s sleepy haze.

“You don’t mind, do you?” he murmured. “It wasn’t anything like that. I wasn’t even anywhere near Cullen, Evie slept between us both.”

To his relief, Maxwell smiled. “Of course I don’t mind, Dorian,” he laughed. “I trust you.” He pressed his lips to Dorian’s neck, kissing his pulse and making the mage shudder with delight. “Actually,” he added in a whisper against Dorian’s skin. “I find the idea of that golden-haired hunk kissing you incredibly sexy. Maker, I bet you two would look gorgeous together.”

Dorian groaned, his already erect cock growing thick with want. “Maxwell,” he sighed, and he pulled his lover up by his collar, claiming his lips greedily once more.

“Mmm, have I missed you,” the rogue groaned. He rolled his hips into Dorian’s, making the man gasp with delight. “How do want me, gorgeous?”

“Inside me,” sighed Dorian. “It feels like forever, amatus. I want to feel you.”

“As you wish, love,” the Marcher smirked.

As it turned out, it had been sinfully early when Maxwell had crawled into his bed. By the time they were done reacquainting themselves with each other and had cleaned up again afterwards, it was only just time for breakfast.

“I wish you’d have told me how early it was,” Dorian grumbled, as they made their way down to the dining hall together. “I’d have made you get into bed for a couple of hours.”

“Oh, stop griping,” laughed Max, and he squeezed Dorian’s arse playfully, making the mage jump. “We had a nice, intimate morning, all without missing breakfast. Could you ask for a better start to your Satinalia?”

“Oh, I don’t know, how about sleeping in until noon? Brunch in bed followed by wine and lots and lots of sex?” suggested Dorian. Max laughed, slipping his arm around the Tevinter’s waist.

“There’s still time love,” he chuckled. “Wait ‘til you see the gift I’ve brought you.”

“Ooh, is it a naughty gift?” Dorian asked delightedly, wondering what it might possibly be. They didn’t have much by the way of bedroom toys and he very much liked the idea of adding to their collection.

“Might be,” grinned Max. “I’ll show you later, before we head out.”

They rounded a corner into the dining hall and found Evie and Cullen already there, the redhead sitting in her Templar’s lap. She jumped up when she saw her brother and flew at him with open arms.

“Max!” she cried delightedly, jumping into his arms. Maxwell crushed her to him and spun her around in circle, making her laugh. Dorian found himself beaming. It never failed to warm his heart how much they adored each other. He sometimes wondered what it would be like if he’d had a sibling but it was an idea he was quick to dismiss: no doubt his parents would have cultivated a bitter rivalry between them.

“Morning, sis,” Maxwell grinned, kissing her fondly on the nose and setting her down. “And hello tall, blonde and handsome,” he added, tossing a smirk Cullen’s way. “Happy Satinalia.” The former Templar blushed predictably but he refrained from the stammering he might have been prone to weeks prior. He merely shook his head, accepting Evie back onto his knee with a fond embrace

“Maxwell,” he nodded, with a tiny smirk. “I trust you had a pleasant trip?”

“As pleasant as working for my father can be,” Max shrugged, and he dropped down into a chair on the opposite side of the table. Dorian joined him and began pouring himself a cup of steaming fruit tea. “So,” Max grinned. “I hear you three have been keeping each other warm in my absence. Tell me everything. And don’t skip the dirty details.”

“I already told you amatus, no dirty details to be found,” smirked Dorian. Breakfast that morning was particularly lavish and Dorian spotted a platter of his favourite seasonal treat- a sugared cinnamon pastry. Stealthily, he slipped a couple onto his plate, surprised by his own hunger.

“I don’t know,” Evie winced, leaning forward in Cullen’s lap. “That second time, I did get out of bed and come back again to find you and Cullen wrapped up in each other’s arms.”

Dorian almost choked on a mouthful of buttery pastry and he glared across the table at his amicus, who looked incredibly pleased with herself.

“You said you were going to let that go,” he hissed, even as Maxwell began to laugh raucously. “It was an honest mistake!”

“Oh I know,” Evie grinned. “Still hilarious, though. You should take heed, brother: your amatus here is terrible for mistaking others for you when he’s half asleep. Remember the night after our wedding, when you thought I was-”

“Alright, alright,” Dorian interjected, his cheeks burning with embarrassment. “I think that’s quite enough. So much, for keeping it quiet…”

Mercifully, Maxwell found it all rather funny. “Don’t be embarrassed, love,” he smiled, squeezing Dorian’s thigh under the table. “I think it’s sweet that you’re thinking of me, even in your dreams. Now sure how you missed those tits though,” he added with a wink and Dorian elbowed him.

“You are both as insufferable as each other,” he sniffed, glowering across the table at Evie. The redhead stuck out her tongue, eyes glittering with mischief.

“So is there some sort of plan to today’s festivities?” Cullen asked. “I confess, I do not know much of Satinalia traditions outside of Ferelden.”

“The only real plan, as far as any good Tevinter is concerned, is excess: of drink, of food and of trinkets. As long as you have an abundance of all three, you’ve got Satinalia down to an art,” said Dorian, with a scathing smile. “The actual festival goes on all day, sunrise to sunrise. Personally, I don’t think it gets really interesting until after dusk, so it’s not worth heading out until later this afternoon.”

“And until then?” the blonde queried and Dorian chuckled.

“Weren’t you listening?” he grinned. “I can only speak for myself, of course, but I fully intend to spend my day being thoroughly pampered.”

“And how does that differ from any other day?” Cullen smirked, prompting a pretend wounded gasp from the mage.

“I’ll have you know, I am not the spoiled noble brat you like to paint me as,” he said, as haughtily as he could.”

“No,” Culled agreed with a grin. “You’re far worse.”

“Ugh, it’s so hot when you two play-fight,” Max chipped in, and he leaned on the table, his eyes flicking between them with obvious glee. “One of these days…”

Cullen snorted at that, turning away and effectively ending their little volley. “Maker, you’re like a dog in heat…” he muttered.

“Woof,” said Max, grinning wickedly.

 

*

 

After a blissful morning of doing a great deal of nothing – and several failed attempts by Dorian to sneak his present early – the time came for them to get ready for the festival. At Dorian’s insistence, the couples had been split apart, leaving Maxwell to prepare with Cullen and Evie to prepare with himself.

“But why?” Cullen had wondered. “Can we not get ready together?”

“Eurgh, no we cannot, you rank amateur,” Dorian had pouted, frustrated. “I have poured my heart and soul into these creations! I want you see them for the first time in their entirety, as a surprise! Is that too much to ask?”

The blonde hadn’t argued, though Dorian was fairly certain that was because of Evie’s intervention rather than a sudden understanding of his artistic flair. Nevertheless, the outcome was favourable and his amatus had taken the former Templar off so that he and Evie could prepare together.

“So, where are they?” Evie asked, clapping her hands together excitedly. “Have you seen them?”

“I have and they’re wonderful,” Dorian assured her. “Not that there was ever any doubt,” he added, with a smirk.

“Well, let me see!” she squealed. “Come on, don’t keep me waiting!”

“After,” Dorian promised. “These outfits are my gifts to you all and I want them to be appreciated properly.”

Evie beamed then and she took his hand, leading him towards the main bathroom.

“In that case,” she murmured, and Dorian knew that smile, the exact same one she always wore when she was up to something. “I think you should have my gift first.”       

She led him into the bathroom then and his eyes almost popped out of his head at what he saw. Somehow, she’d managed to transform the place into something like a spa without him realising. The enormous sunken bath was filled and steaming, the water strewn with petals; massage tables had been set up along one wall and there was a table groaning under the weight of fresh fruits, sweets and… Maker, was that Orlesian champagne? But the best part was easily the two unfathomably gorgeous men standing by the massage tables, both dressed in pristine white trousers and nothing else.

“Happy Satinalia,” she winked, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“There are no words for how much I adore you,” he beamed. “How in the Void did you manage all this?”

“Ha, well, when you were lounging around like a house cat this morning, some of us were busy,” she teased. “So, are you just going stand there or are you going to get your peachy backside into that bath?”

It was easily one of the most thoughtful gifts Dorian had ever received. After a long and luxurious soak in the bath, during which their two attendants had washed their hair and plied them both with champagne and treats, they were treated to a blissful massage. It left the Tevinter feeling clean and relaxed and very, very good about himself.

“Pity I sent Max away,” he murmured, as he followed Evie into her room, his silk robe clinging to his oiled skin. “I could really go for a good fuck right about now.”

“You just had a bath!” Evie reminded him. She was smiling though, and she squeezed his hand affectionately.

“Isn’t part of the fun of being clean to get dirty again?” chuckled Dorian. “Speaking of which… I do believe your golden-haired hunk is going to want to bend you over the balcony when he sees you in this dress. I’m going to help you into it and then you can see for yourself, yes?”

“Alright,” Evie nodded, and she was bouncing on her toes again in excitement. Dorian fetched the gown from where it was hanging on the privacy screen. It was every bit as stunning as he’d imagined, if he said so himself; emerald green with black petticoats and silver detailing around the bust and waist. It almost looked a little elven in design but he didn’t mind that- it added to its charm. What was more, he knew it would look stunning on her.

“Here,” he beamed, approaching where Evie was now standing in a tiny pair of lacy underthings and not much else. He eyed them briefly with intrigue, making a mental note to come back and steal them later - if they managed to survive the night, of course. Maxwell would fabulous in something like that. “You’re going to have to step into it,” he explained, as he loosened the lacing that ran down the back. “It’s far too heavy to go over your head.”

“Alright,” Evie smiled gleefully. Dorian bent down to hold the thing open for her and she stepped gracefully into the pooled fabric. Together, they pulled it up and Evie held it in place whilst he fastened it all up. “You are remarkably skilled at that,” she commented slyly, and he laughed.

“Don’t get any misconstrued ideas,” he warned her with a wink. “I’ll have you know that shirts that fastened in such a way were in fashion here for a while, that’s all.”

“If you say so,” she grinned, as Dorian rearranged her hair over the back of the gown. Gently, he turned her towards the mirror and watched with delight the awed look that washed over her.

“Dorian,” she gasped. “Maker, it’s beautiful! I think you’ve missed a calling…”

“Hardly,” he chuckled. “Just another page in my book of many talents. So, you’re pleased, then?”

Evie turned to him and she hugged him so tightly he could scarcely breathe.

“It’s incredible,” she whispered, and the raw gratitude in her voice made his chest constrict in a way her embrace never could. “Thank you.”

“Thank me in the morning,” he joked, as she kissed him sweetly on the forehead. “If you still have voice enough to speak, that is.”

Evie giggled and she have him a playful shove. “Your turn now?” she asked.

“Yes, my turn,” he agreed. “And I want your honest opinion.”

Dorian had opted for a set of ornate robes in teal velvet, with white breeches and boots – they’d cost a small fortune – and the most beautiful gold embroidery that trailed flowers and serpents all over one side of the garment. It looked every bit as stunning on him as it did on the hanger and, as he inspected it from all angles in front of the mirror, he couldn’t have been more pleased.

“Oh honey, you look amazing,” Evie gushed. “Max isn’t going to be able to keep his eyes off you.”

“That’s rather what I was hoping,” Dorian winked.

As delighted as he was, he couldn’t help but feel a touch anxious as they made their way to the great room to meet up. Max’s taste was decidedly simpler than his own. What if he didn’t like it? Maker’s breath, what if he didn’t like the outfit Dorian had picked for _him_? He’d gone with plum, thinking it would complement his teal without being too matchy. Would Max even like plum?

It turned out he hadn’t needed to worry. The look on his amatus’s face when he saw him spoke volumes.

“Maker, Dorian,” he breathed, as he pulled the Tevinter into his arms. “You look… wow. I am so fucking lucky.”

“You look rather dashing yourself, amatus,” Dorian smiled and he happily accepted the kiss his lover planted on his lips.

“All thanks to you,” Max grinned. “Really, Dorian… thank you.”

“Yes, well, someone had to make sure you didn’t look like a vagrant,” he teased. He cast a brief glance over at Evie, who was being walked steadily backwards towards her room by an insistent Cullen. He’d yet to take his lips off her. “Oh, I am good,” Dorian smirked. “I wonder if they’ll actually get out of the apartment.”

“He’s just taking her to give her his gift,” explained Max, with a knowing smile. Dorian cocked his head curiously, about to ask his lover what he knew on the matter but the rogue shushed him. “Speaking of which,” he said, pointedly. “I want you to come with me. It’s about time I gave you your own present, don’t you think?”

Dorian grinned and nodded, and he allowed Maxwell to lead him back to their room. The Marcher shut the door behind them and he walked around the bed to the nightstand on his side.

“I’ve been thinking about this all week,” he admitted, with the sort of smirk that sent a shiver down Dorian’s spine. The mage watched him pull a pretty blue box from within the drawer and he brought it over to Dorian. “Happy Satinalia, gorgeous,” he grinned.

Beside himself with anticipation, Dorian pulled at the silver satin ribbon that held the box’s lid in place. He opened it up with trembling fingers. Inside, lay a little trinket that had his pulse quickening: four gleaming golden balls, each in increasing size, joined together by a thick, woven satin cord that was looped at the end. Dorian knew very well what these were and, Maker, he was quivering at the thought.

“Amatus,” he breathed hoarsely. “You are a wicked man. Are these… real gold? Surely not.”

“Of course,” Max chuckled and he seemed pleased by Dorian’s reaction. “Only the best naughty things for my love. I take it you’re familiar with what they are?”

“Oh yes,” Dorian affirmed. “Intimately.”

“Good,” smiled the rogue. “Because I want you to wear them tonight.”

Dorian’s head shot up at that, eyes wide, and his cock twitched eagerly in his smalls.

“You’re not serious,” he whispered. “Amatus, I just got dressed.”

“You’ll only have to slip your breeches down for me,” Maxwell shrugged. Maker’s breath, his eyes were practically glowing with lust and Dorian couldn’t resist him when he was this delectable. “I just can’t explain love,” he murmured, “but the thought of you going all night with these inside your gorgeous arse makes me so fucking hot. I want to dance with you knowing they’re filling you. I want to see you squirm as they rub you all the right ways, knowing it’s because I put them there… _fuck_. You know what I mean, don’t you?”

He did, not that he wanted to admit it so readily. To have Max’s toy inside him all night, like a brand… Kaffas, he couldn’t get it out of his head.

“Alright,” Dorian agreed. “But if it gets too much…”

“Don’t worry love,” Max smirked. “I won’t let it. I’m the only who gets to see you mewling and needy. Now, why don’t you use one of your clever tricks to warm those up whilst I find some oil?”

Dorian nodded and he took the toy in his hands, calling forth the very gentlest touch of heat to warm them. He watched Max pull a little bottle of oil – the scented kind he preferred – out of a drawer.

“Bend over, lovely,” he instructed. “I’m going to make sure you’re nice and ready for them.”

Biting his lip, Dorian bent at the waist, still holding the toy in both of his palms. The golden balls were slowly warming, growing something akin to the temperature of his body. He felt Maxwell sidle up behind him, his lover’s hands ghost over his crotch as the buttons of his breeches were popped open. His cock twitched with growing need. The mage’s breeches were pushed down, along with his smalls, to his knees and he felt Max’s hands on his backside.

“Such a glorious arse,” the rogue sighed. One of his fingers pressed against the pucker and Dorian gasped, biting his lip. Max then began to massage in gentle circles, his oiled digit teasing, gently pushing into Dorian’s heat.

“Venhedis, Max,” he hissed. “I’m no blushing maiden! You won’t break me.”

“Oh I know,” Max chuckled. “I just like watching your slutty little hole take me in. It likes to be filled, hm?” And he pushed it all the way inside, swirling and stretching in Dorian’s passage. The mage groaned, pleasure sparking in his gut. Max added another and he stretched a little more. The tips of his fingers crooked and he granted Dorian a quick touch to his sweet spot, making him buck and cry out.

“Ahh, Max!” he whimpered. “Maker, yes…”

“Sorry love, just a passing visit,” the rogue purred. “Have you got that little trinket nice and warm yet?”

Dorian nodded and he handed it back to his lover, who slathered it up with oil. Then, removing his fingers, Max pressed it gently inside of him, bit by bit. Maker, it felt strange and so good. Dorian gasped, feeling each individual ball as it was swallowed up. The last and largest make him groan. He shifted his hips, trying to alleviate some of the pressure on his now very hard cock, and felt them move inside of him.

“Oh!” he cried out. “Oh, that feels… Maker, I’d forgotten how good.”

“Are they comfortable?” asked Max. “Can you feel the cord?”

“Not at all,” said Dorian. “They feel delightful.”

“Good,” Max grinned and he smacked his lover fondly on the backside before pulling up his breeches. Dorian bit his lip, every little motion making the balls shift inside of him.

“Ready to head out?” the Marcher grinned. The bastard knew, Dorian had no doubt, and he vowed to spend all evening making his lover as hot and needy as he would assuredly be.

“Absolutely,” he smirked. “Let’s see which of us breaks first, shall we?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep. Just throw me on the trash, baby. Not even sorry. 
> 
> Just enjoying the chance for a little levity whilst I can. ;)


	32. Carnevale - Part One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen gives Evie something special before they head out to the festival.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I was writing this chapter and I realised it's getting just too long. So I thought I might as well split it and give you this part now. 
> 
>  
> 
> Oh and... surprise. ;)

Chapter XXIX

Carnevale - Part One

 

 

Evie broke away from Cullen’s kiss, breathless and smiling. She rested her forehead against his and gazed deep into his gorgeous, amber eyes.

“Are you going to tell me what this about?” she purred. “Not that I mind the kissing.”

Cullen smirked, shaking his head infinitesimally. He took a step back, freeing her from where she’d been pinned against the bedroom door, and wandered over to the dresser.

“I wanted to give you your gift before we head out,” he beamed. “You and your dress just distracted me for a moment, is all.”

“You’re one to talk, Knight Commander,” Evie smirked. The blonde looked resplendent in the midnight blue jacket Dorian had commissioned for him, black breeches and boots completing the ensemble. The intricate silver embroidery on the lapels was hypnotising; Evie kept wanting to run her fingers over it, to follow the swirling silver lines as they blossomed out from his chest. Distracting wasn’t even the word for it.

“Dorian does have excellent taste, I have to admit,” said Cullen. “Remind me to thank him properly later. For now, though…”

Evie watched as he delved into a drawer and pulled out a small, scarlet pouch that looked to be made of velvet. The blonde looked suddenly nervous and it endeared Evie to see the pouch was trembling in his hands.

“Maker, I’ve been thinking about this all day,” he muttered. “I had it all planned out and then scrapped it and then planned it again… Your brother wasn’t much help…”

“What do you mean?” Evie murmured, frowning. “Cullen, what is it? Are you alright?”

“Yes,” he laughed breathlessly. He turned to her then, his cheeks flushed but his eyes bright. He crossed the room in several long strides and took her hands in his own. “I’m fine,” he assured her. “In fact, I’m better than fine… and it’s all because of you.”

He sank down gracefully to one knee then and Evie’s heart began to hammer in her chest. Her mouth went dry and the room seemed to swim a little before her eyes.

“Cullen…” she whispered. She watched, transfixed, hardly daring to hope, as he fumbled with the little red pouch and pulled out a ring. Evie’s eyes filled with tears and she had to bite her lip to stop them from falling.

“Evie,” he said, kissing her hand with such tenderness that she actually whimpered. “This isn’t a proposal, not really… I mean, how can it be, you’re already married but… Maker…I’m messing this up…”

“It’s alright,” she assured him, her voice choked. “Go on…”

Cullen took a deep breath and he tried again. “Evie… I know we’ll likely never be able to get married and I’ve come to terms with that. That’s not… Maker, that’s not what this ring is about, not really. I just want you to know that no matter what happens, no matter what this life throws at us, you have my heart… and you always will. I want to be by your side always, if you’ll let me.”

“Oh Maker, there’s nothing I want more in this world,” Evie whispered, and the tears began to fall then. “You have my heart too, you know that? And if there ever comes a day where we can… where we might… then my answer is yes, Cullen.”

“It is?” he breathed, his eyes shining and his lips curling into the most beautiful, joyful smile she had ever seen.

“Of course it is,” Evie laughed through her tears. “Maker, Cullen, I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” he murmured and he slipped the ring onto her finger then, letting it settle right above her wedding band. It was a gorgeous thing, gold and studded all around with what she presumed to be emeralds. “They reminded me of your eyes,” Cullen admitted, noticing her stare. Evie laughed and she pulled him up, throwing her arms around him ecstatically.

“You sweet, wonderful man,” she praised, burying her face in his neck. She couldn’t help the sobs that followed, so overcome was she with emotion. No, it might not have been a ‘real proposal’ but it meant just as much to her. He really, truly wanted her, in spite of everything, and that was the greatest gift she could ever ask for.

“Hey,” he shushed her, kissing her hair over and over. “You’re not supposed to cry.”

“They’re good tears, I promise,” she laughed, and she pulled away, wiping at her tears and beaming at the man she loved. “Cullen, I may be Dorian’s wife by law but I am yours in heart, in mind, in body and in spirit. Everything I am belongs to you. You know that, right?”

“I do now,” he smiled. He kissed her then, slow and deep and passionate. Evie had to hang onto his neck to stop herself from reeling and he held her to him, their bodies pressed tightly together.

“Come on then,” he uttered, when they eventually pulled apart. “I want to dance with the woman I love tonight. Shall we head out?”

Evie nodded, beaming, and she allowed Cullen to lead her by the hand to the door. They practically ran into the great room, giddy, laughing like children. Cullen picked her up and spun her around and she squealed with undisguised delight.

“Dorian!” she called out. “Max, where are you?!”

There was no response from either of them anywhere as Cullen set her down on the floor again.

“Perhaps they’ve already gone?” he shrugged.

“Maybe,” Evie smiled. “No matter, we can catch up with them later. I wanted to tell them but…Wait a minute… did you say something earlier about Max? Was he _in_ on this?”

Cullen flashed her an embarrassed smile. “Well I could hardly ask your father's permission to ‘not exactly marry’ his daughter, could I?” he chuckled. “So I asked Max. He gave us his blessing, incidentally.”

Evie beamed and she thought she might actually cry again to learn he’d done something so sweet. “Maker’s breath, you are the most wonderful man,” she sighed. “Shall we go then? Do you have your mask?”

Beaming, Cullen retrieved his mask from where it was hanging from his belt. They both had reasonably simple silver half-masks, enough to conceal their identities but not to provide a barrier to their affection. Evie slipped on her own, tying it in place behind her hair. She was excited, a little thrilled to finally be stepping out with Cullen on her arm.

“Come then, my lady,” the blonde smirked, bowing elegantly and offering her his hand. Evie took it, giggling as he pulled her to his side, and they left the apartment together.

Minrathous was positively buzzing. The streets were busier than Evie had ever seen them, with people crowded everywhere as far as the eye could see. She could hear music coming from all directions and the air was rich with some of the most delicious scents imaginable. Flags and garlands festooned every building. Little coloured lanterns, clearly lit by magic, hung in strings across the streets.

“Maker, it’s incredible!” Evie cried, over the noise of the crowds. “I don’t know what to do first!”

“I hear the square in front of our palazzo has a dance going on,” called Cullen, squeezing her hand. “Do you want to go and see?”

Evie nodded, delighted, and she allowed Cullen to lead her through the swarms of people. Everyone was wearing their brightest and most beautiful clothing, faces masked, hiding from the world. It was rather exciting, knowing she could be rubbing shoulders with just about anyone and they would never know it. She wondered if there were kings or princes amongst these crowds? Maybe the Archon himself? No one would be any the wiser. Dorian’s parents could be here. Or her own. That was a thought that made her shudder but she reminded herself that, even if they were, they would never recognise her. She probably wouldn’t recognise Cullen if she didn’t know what he was wearing.

They passed a stall selling wine and she stopped to purchase a couple of drinks. The vendors were selling them in cheap, clay mugs, easily made and thrown aside without much thought. There were already dozens of shards of the stuff all over the floors.

“I pity the poor sod who has to clean this up in the morning,” Cullen chuckled, accepting a drink with a smile. The wine was good, typically, and Evie relished the heady, fruity taste. Cullen, on the other hand, swallowed it down like it was water.

“Maker,” she laughed. “You know Tevinter wine is stronger than the stuff we had in Ostwick, right?”

“We’re celebrating,” the blonde shrugged. “I see no reason to be over-cautious tonight. Do you?”

Evie considered him for a moment and she too drained her mug, tossing it aside with the tinkle of broken pottery. The warmth of the wine hit her instantly and she giggled, exhilarated. “Ok, that was fun,” she admitted.

“No half-measures tonight,” Cullen smirked. “Now come on, I can see the dancing from here.”

He took her by the hand again and they weaved through the crowd, making their way to where a troupe of musicians were playing on a makeshift stage. A wooden dancefloor hand been lain and dozens of beautiful, brilliant wisps floated in their air above it, casting their eerie glow down upon the dancers.

“Never have I seen such casual use of magic,” Cullen remarked. Secretly, Evie thought it was rather beautiful and she wished more mages in Thedas could simply use their magic for the wonder it inspired. She kept that thought to herself though, not wanting to start a debate on this most wonderful of nights. Cullen pulled her into the fray and he turned to her, bowing low and offering his hand.

“May I have this dance, my lady?” he murmured, and his lips lilted in that tantalising half smile of his. Evie placed her hand upon his own, her heart fluttering inside her chest.

“You may,” she smiled and she laughed with delight as Cullen twirled her, pulling her close into his arms.

 

*

 

Many dances, several drinks and a couple of hours later, Evie tore away from Cullen to fetch them both yet another cup of wine. They’d had a few already and she was pleasantly tipsy as she handed her coin over to the vendor.

“Well, well, if it isn’t the luckiest woman in all of Thedas,” said a voice behind her and Evie turned to see Maxwell and Dorian standing there, her brother looking like the cat who’d gotten the canary.

“There you are!” she beamed. She pressed her new newly acquired drinks into their hands and turned back to the vendor to purchase a couple more. “Where have you been?” she asked. “Had you gone by the time we left?”

“Actually, I think it was the other way around,” Max smirked. “We heard you shout but we were a little… busy. You’d gone by the time we left the bedroom.”

Evie laughed, shaking her head, and she cast a glance at her amicus. He seemed rather distracted, his cheeks flushed and posture a little off.

“Are you alright?” she asked him.

Me?” he asked, and he gave her a secret, devilish sort of smile then. “Oh, I am just wonderful.”

“Let me see your hand,” Max commanded. Grinning, Evie showed him the latest addition to her finger and he beamed, clearly pleased. “You said yes, then! Good!”

“Said yes to what?” Dorian frowned, glancing too at Evie’s hand. “What are you both talking about?”

“A certain scrumptious Templar sort-of proposed to my sister this evening,” grinned Max. “And she’s wearing the ring, so I can only assume that’s a good thing.”

“What?!” Dorian cried, and he grabbed Evie’s hand, staring at the gold and emerald ring that sat over her wedding band. “Maker’s breath!” he exclaimed, his eyes wide. “You’re not serious?!”

“It wasn’t a proposal so much as a promise,” Evie explained. “An agreement that no matter where life takes us, we belong to each other.”

Dorian bit his lip and, for a moment, his eyes shone wetly in the light of the lanterns. “I’m so happy for you,” he murmured, and he folded her into an awkward embrace, as though he was trying to keep her at arms’ length. Evie kissed his cheek and she heard him give a little groan. She decided it better not to question it.

Cullen joined them then and the blonde found himself all but tackled by Max, who seemed as pleased at the news as they were.

“Congratulations, tall, blonde and handsome,” the rogue grinned. “I knew you could do it.”

“Wait, you knew about this?!” Dorian exclaimed, and he looked distinctly put out.

“Yep,” chuckled Max. “The big sap asked my permission and everything.”

“Not that I need it,” Cullen smirked. “Technically, we’re not doing anything. It was just… a declaration of love.” Even with several glasses of wine in him, Cullen still blushed at the admission and her brother chortled.

“So precious!” he sighed. “Well, let it be known, I’m delighted. Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to ask this gorgeous man to dance with me. Dorian, darling?”

“I thought you’d never ask, amatus,” the Tevinter smirked. Maxwell pulled his lover into his arms and they both made their way to the dance floor, barely taking their hands off each other.

“Maker’s breath,” laughed Cullen, accepting a cup of wine from Evie. “Those two are rather… intense tonight.”

Evie nodded, watching them swaying together to the music, lips locked is a desperately passionate kiss. Dorian looked like he was about to push Max down and take him right there, which was odd – he wasn’t usually one for public displays of affection, not even with her. Still, she supposed that was the beauty of the mask: no one would know it was him.

“Shall we join them?” Cullen asked, as soon as they’d finished their wine. “I fancy another turn about the floor myself.”

“As you wish, my love,” Evie giggled, and she followed Cullen onto to dancefloor. The music  switched to a livelier waltz and her lover twirled her beautifully through the steps.

“When did you get so good at this?” she wondered. “Don’t tell me – was dancing one of your required skills in Templar training?”

“No,” the blonde laughed. “But I did have to learn for balls and banquets and various functions as Knight Commander. I’ve never really enjoyed it until now.”

Evie smiled and she felt her cheeks flush beneath her mask, though she supposed that could have been the wine. She clung to Cullen’s arms as he twirled her and dipped her in time to the music. His footwork was exemplary; he could easily have given any nobleman a run for his money.

“Such poise and grace, Ser Rutherford,” she sighed. “I am a lucky girl, indeed.”

“I’m the lucky one, Lady…” Cullen trailed off, chuckling. “I wonder, would you be a Trevelyan still, were you my bride?”

“Maker, no,” Evie replied. “I’d want to be yours in every way possible.”

“Lady Rutherford, hm?” The blonde dipped her then, gazing deep into with heated, amber eyes. “I’m not going to lie, Evelyn,” he muttered, as he pulled her back up again. “Hearing that does things to me.”

“Hm, then I shall remember that, my love,” she grinned. “Might come in handy.”


	33. Carnevale - Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a few drinks too many, the four decide to play a little game.

Chapter XXX 

Carnevale - Part Two 

 

 

 

They were hopelessly drunk by the time they returned to the palazzo. Evie’s feet were sore from dancing and Cullen had offered to carry her, though he’d only managed about ten feet before they’d both collapsed in a mad, giggling heap. They’d switched quickly back to walking then, leaning on each other for support. Evie had no idea what time it was. The sun hadn’t come up yet, so it was obviously still night, but there were plenty of people still roaming the streets. They somehow managed to slip into the building unnoticed – a feat, considering how much they were laughing.

“Maker, you should have seen the look on his father’s face,” Evie giggled. “I thought his eyes were going to fall out of his head.”

Cullen gave a drunken little snigger. “You’re making this up,” he accused. “Dorian likes men!” he exclaimed, and he gestured wildly, almost falling over in the process. “Why would he kiss you? Decidedly not a man,” he pointed out, and he cupped her breast, appraising her curves with a hungry smile.

“I told you,” the redhead laughed. “To piss off his father.”

“But doesn’t his father want him to like girls?”

“I…” Evie frowned at that, trying to get her mind around it. Dorian had explained it to her once, but her memories were evading her. “Oh, never mind,” she snickered. “Doesn’t much matter, anyway.”

They reached the door and guards standing either side opened it wide for them. They could hear voices from the hallway and the unmistakable sounds of two people kissing.

“Maker, I hope they’re not fucking,” Cullen mumbled. “I’ve not had nearly enough wine to deal with that.”

“Maxwell!” Evie called loudly, thinking to warn them. “Dorian!”

The pair of them wandered unsteadily into the great room, where it was very obvious that her brother and his amatus had recently been doing just that. Dorian was lounging on an over-sized cushion on the rug, half-dressed and thoroughly dishevelled. Max was still a little flushed and Evie saw a flash of gold as he slipped something into his pocket.

“Ahhh, there they are,” Dorian grinned, without an iota of shame. “We were wondering where you’d gotten to.”

His eyes were unfocused and Evie knew he’d probably had a few too many as well.

“Dorian,” Evie beseeched her friend, flopping down on the floor beside him and leaning on his shoulder. “Tell my darling Cullen why you kissed me in front of all those people on our wedding day. He seems to think I’m pulling his leg.”

“Oh it’s true,” Max grinned. “He did; it was hilarious.”

“But why?” Cullen asked. “You don’t even like women.” He too dropped down on the rug and it was a sign of how much he’d had to drink that he cosied up to Dorian too. The Tevinter looked beside himself with glee.

“My good man,” said Dorian, with a throaty chuckle. “You don’t have to be attracted to women to enjoy kissing them. It was comforting. Also, hilarious, as my amatus rightly said. My father nearly pissed himself from shock.”

Evie giggled as she remembered the look on Halward’s face again and Dorian shot her an amused glance.

“I just can’t imagine it,” muttered the blonde. It was about the worst thing he could have said. Evie saw the wicked grin split Dorian’s face, saw the look that passed between him and Max, and she tensed. The Tevinter pulled her close and, before she could so much as protest, he kissed her, deep and thorough. He tasted of wine and honey and, for a moment, she lost herself. Then she remembered the man had just been screwing around with her brother and she shoved him off, laughing.

“There? Was that enough of a visualisation for you?” asked Dorian, and he laughed wildly, falling back against Max’s knees. Evie glanced quickly to her lover, half-expecting him to be annoyed. To her surprise, he merely looked smug.

“That’s not how you do it,” he slurred. “Watch.”

Evie managed to squeak with surprise before she was knocked on her back. Then Cullen was on top of her, kissing her like he wanted nothing more than to rip her clothes off. Evie forgot that her brother and her best friend were both inches away and she moaned, pressing herself up against him, wrapping her arms around his neck. He did his delectable little trick of licking her bottom lip and she whined.

“There,” Cullen said, pulling away suddenly and leaving Evie wanting. “That’s how you kiss my woman,” he chuckled. “Take note.”

Evie frowned. Max and Dorian merely stared, both open-mouthed, both ever so slightly flushed.

“Hot,” Max whispered.

“Indeed,” chuckled Dorian shaking himself, “Reminds me of a little game we used to play when we were younger. I rather think we should give it a whirl...”

“What kind of game?” Cullen frowned.

“Oh, you’ll see,” the Tevinter grinned. “I need to go and fetch something, though. Evie, darling, go and get us a bottle of wine and meet me back here.”

Evie nodded and she got to her feet, groaning as the room spun a little around her. Cullen made as though to help her but she waved him off.

“I’m alright,” she muttered. “Just a bit unsteady.”

She walked slowly to the dining hall, where she knew there’d be several bottles of wine out waiting. Her surroundings were hazy, a touch blurry before her eyes, and she knew she was on the verge of being too drunk. Still, another glass wouldn’t hurt, she supposed, and she snatched a bottle of red and four goblets from the sideboard.

Dorian was back in the great room when she returned. He had a little purple pouch swinging off one finger and he fixed her with a sphinx-like smile when he saw her approaching.

“Ah, you brought the Aggregio, good girl,” he praised. He patted the rug next to him and Evie obliged, somehow managing to make the motion look half-graceful and not the glorified falling it truly was. Cullen sat on her other side and Maxwell next to him, forming a very crooked circle.

“I’m surprised you chose to sit on the floor, love,” Max grinned, bouncing his eyebrows. Dorian merely made a sound that was half snicker, half hiccup.

“Don’t flatter yourself, amatus,” he teased. “B’sides, it’s traditional. Now who’s going first?”

“Hang on,” Cullen objected. “I don’t understand. What’re we doing?”

“Don’t tell me the Chantry boy’s never played truth or dare,” the Tevinter chuckled. He held his hand out to Max, who handed him a switch blade, and proceeded to open the bottle of wine. “Maker, you haven’t, have you!” he laughed. “I thought every culture had some version of it.”

“We do,” Max smirked. “Cully’s just a sheltered little lamb.”

“I am not,” Cullen frowned, whilst Dorian fell about laughing at Max’s use of the name “Cully”.

“Oh, quit being arses you two and let’s just show him,” sighed Evie. “I’ll go first. Gimme.”

Dorian managed to pull himself together and he handed Evie the little purple pouch. She reached inside, feeling what were clearly four coins in there, and pulled one out. It was a silver piece with an ‘M’ drawn on it in Maker knew what. Evie turned to Maxwell, grinning.

“Truth or dare, brother?” she asked, and she accepted a goblet of wine from her amicus. Max pondered it for a moment, taking up a drink of his own, before he answered.

“Truth?” he ventured, uncertainly. Evie smirked.

“Alright,” she murmured. “I’ve always wondered… Did you or did you not sleep with Selene’s boyfriend like she claims you did? I always stuck up for you but I never stopped to ask.” Maxwell pulled a face, a clearly guilty, uncomfortable face, and Evie gasped. “Maker, you did! Oh, Max!

“In my defence, I was very drunk and HE started it!” Max argued. “I don’t understand why she was so bothered, he was bloody awful…”

“You slept with your sister’s boyfriend, amatus?” asked Dorian, though he seemed more amused than scandalised. “Oh, you are terrible.”

“It was years ago, love,” Max promised. “I’m not that man anymore and I thank you, sister, for dragging it up.”

“You’re welcome,” Evie giggled. She turned to Cullen then, favouring him with an adoring smile. “Get the premise, my love?” she asked. Cullen chuckled, inching a little closer to her, sneaking her a quick kiss.

“I think I can manage it,” he purred and he held out his hand. Evie replaced Max’s coin and she handed over the pouch, giddy with glee.

“Alright,” Cullen muttered, as he reached inside the bag. “Oh, I got my own. Do I do it again?”

Evie nodded and she watched with bated breath. The next coin he drew had a ‘D’ on it and all eyes turned to Dorian, who smirked over the rim of his goblet.

“Truth,” he said confidently, before Cullen had even asked. The former Templar grinned, twirling the silver coin between his fingers.

“Were you,” he murmured, with the air of one delivering a terrible blow, “or were you not hiding in the pantry last Thursday night?” He shot Dorian a devilish smile and Evie was surprised to see the Tevinter turn incredibly pink.

“Vishante kaffas,” he hissed, “How did you even know?”

Cullen sniggered. “Two things,” he smirked, holding up three fingers, frowning and then forcing the ring finger down. “Two things,” he repeated. “First, the pantry door was ajar when we went in and yet, when we left, I noticed it was shut. Second, I could bloody smell you Dorian! That stuff you use on your hair, I can smell it a mile off!”

Dorian groaned and he covered his face in his hands. Evie wasn’t quite sure what the problem was. Why would he be embarrassed about hiding in the pantry and what was Cullen doing up in the night to even notice…

“OH!” Evie cried, as the realisation hit her. “Oh no! NO! Maker, Dorian, please don’t tell me you heard the whole thing?!”

“Heard,” the mage mumbled. “Saw, a little.”

Evie couldn’t help it; she burst out laughing. If she were a little more sober, she might have been embarrassed by the idea of Dorian being stuck in a cupboard whilst she and Cullen were having sex outside… but Maker, it was just too funny.*

“What are you talking about?” Max whined. “What am I missing?”

Evie collapsed on Cullen, draping over him like a blanket whilst she cackled with mirth.

“Your amatus hid in a cupboard and watched us have sex, that’s what,” Cullen grinned.

“Shit, Dorian,” the Marcher laughed. “Was that what you were trying to tell me about earlier? Oh love, I knew you were kinky…”

“It’s not like I did it on purpose!” Dorian snapped. “By the time I realised what they were doing, it was too late!”

“And just what were you doing in the pantry in the first place?” Evie managed, wiping tears of laughter from her eyes.

“I was looking for the blighted camomile tea!” the Tevinter huffed. His expression was set in annoyance and Evie knew he was at risk of getting bitchy when he’d had too much to drink.

“Oh, Dorian,” she giggled, and she crawled over to him, attempting to wrap him in her arms. He put up a fight.

“No, don’t,” he protested. “Evie, get off…”

Evie shushed him, probably a bit loudly for it to be effective. She placed a kiss on his cheek and she felt his resistance gradually melt away, felt him succumb to her embrace.

“You’re the ones who should be embarrassed,” he mumbled, without any real heat. “You sounded like a pair of rutting wolves.”

“Moving swiftly on,” Max snorted. He nudged Cullen, who replaced Dorian’s coin with a smirk and  passed on the bag to the mage. Dorian rummaged sulkily around inside until he pulled out a coin bearing the letter ‘C’. His eyes lit up.

“Oho, vengeance shall be sweet!” he crowed. “Truth or dare, _Cully_?”

Evie nudged him in the ribs but he just waved her aside. Cullen bit his lip, looking a little torn.

“Dare?” he ventured, after a moment’s hesitation. Dorian grinned.

“Kiss him,” he commanded savagely, and he pointed at Max, who was just draining his goblet. Evie’s eyes widened and she glanced from Cullen to her brother, both of whom had frozen where they sat. Even in their soused state, they each managed to look her way, as if silently asking her permission.

“Oh, Maker yes,” she laughed. “Please, don’t hold back on my account.”

Cullen looked at Max then and, with a nonchalant shrug she knew he’d never perform sober, he closed the gap between him and the rogue. Dorian grasped Evie’s hand tightly and they both stared in amazement as Cullen pressed his lips to Max’s. They kissed lightly for a moment, all lips and gentle pressure, before pulling away. Dorian whined in disappointment.

“Oh, please!” he scoffed and he almost slopped his wine on the rug in his fervour. “Oops. That was barely a kiss! I’ve kissed Evie with more passion than that! Do it again!”

“Is he always this bossy?” Cullen chuckled. He did as he was told though, this time tangling his fingers in Max’s hair and pulling the man up to his lips. Evie’s eyes widened. Dorian groaned. Max made a muffled little sound in the back of his throat and he pulled Cullen into his lap. The blonde kissed Maxwell just as he had Evie earlier and she could see her brother losing himself in the moment. His arms wrapped around Cullen’s waist, ghosting over his backside. When Cullen eventually pulled away, they were both panting, their eyes bright and their lips swollen and glistening.

“Venhedis,” Dorian whispered. “That was…Maker’s breath!”

“Adequate, my Lord Pavus?” asked Cullen sarcastically. He threw Evie a wink and she giggled, ducking into her goblet.

“Quite,” the Tevinter agreed. “Though now we find ourselves at an impasse.”

“Oh?” Cullen frowned. “How so?”

“Well, you’ve gone and kissed everyone in this room except me,” Dorian reasoned, with a sly smile. “I believe that’s an oversight and should be remedied immediately.”

Evie swallowed, feeling a prickle of heat creep up her cheeks that was nothing to do with the wine. This… this she’d seen before, in her darkest moments of fantasy, and it had been so incredibly sexy. She couldn’t tear her eyes away as Dorian inched up to a blushing, surprised Cullen. The way her lover’s breath hitched, the way he wetted his lips in anticipation, was precisely how she had always imagined it. Dorian cupped Cullen’s chin and he pressed their mouths together, lightly at first, pulling away and smirking when Cullen chased the contact. Then he was on him, like a predator devouring his prey. Cullen positively melted beneath the mage, clutching at the front of his robes and kissing him back like his life depended on it. Maker, they looked incredible together and Evie found herself unfathomably turned on. She cast a quick glance at Max and found him watching the display with nothing short of glee.

“Oh, fuck yes,” the rogue muttered. “You two are so fucking gorgeous.”

Dorian moaned then, a pretty thing, perfectly deliberate Evie thought and, judging by the way it had Cullen pulling him closer, it seemed she was right. The blonde clung to Dorian like he was a lifeline. When they finally broke apart – with some degree of reluctance – Evie would have bet good coin he was hard.

“There,” Dorian grinned, as though he’d done nothing more than shake the man’s hand. “Status quo re-established, don’t you think?” And he sat back on his cushion, sipping his wine and looking thoroughly pleased with himself as Max engaged him in a greedy kiss. Evie glanced to Cullen, who looked rather like he’d been mauled with his clothing askew and his hair ruffled. He actually seemed a little lost and the sight was rather sobering for Evie.

“Come here,” she murmured, setting down her goblet and sidling up to him. “What did you do to him, amicus?” she chided. “I thought you were supposed to be a gentleman.”

“In public, perhaps,” the Tevinter chuckled, pushing Max away. Evie straightened her lover’s collar and smoothed down his hair. Cullen blinked at her, as though he’d only just remembered she was there.

“Evie,” he murmured, and he seemed so adorably confused that Evie simply had to kiss him. Cullen latched onto the affection at once, meeting her lips, pressing her tightly to him.

“Ah, bad luck, love, you didn’t turn him completely,” Maxwell teased. Cullen made a very rude gesture at them both and they fell about laughing. “When you are quite finished,” the rogue hiccupped, “I believe it’s my turn.”

Dorian handed Max the pouch, who accepted with a very wobbly kiss to the tip of the mage’s nose. Cullen pulled away from Evie and settled himself with his head in her lap. They watched as Max drew out a shining silver coin bearing the letter ‘E’, smirking.

“Shit,” Evie muttered, which only caused her brother to grin all the wider.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *This actually happened. In case you missed it, http://archiveofourown.org/works/4896244/chapters/11639515
> 
> Once again, writing drunk people is really hard, especially when they're *all* drunk!! I had some fab suggestions from people on Tumblr (dreadwolftakemeofficial, if you've yet to wander over there - yes, someone nabbed my screenname!) vis-a-vis drunk Cullen and what he'd be like. I hope he was ok for you! 
> 
> Also, I'd like to apologise for the rookie mistakes I've made the last couple of chapters. It's embarrassing really, I should know better but I've taken to writing late into the night and my brain just doesn't work as well after a certain hour. Do forgive me.


	34. Unwanted Guests

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the aftermath of an eventful Satinalia, Dorian receives some unexpected house guests.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, we've had a couple of fluffy chapters, which I hope you enjoyed. Now back to the grit. ^_^ 
> 
> For those of you who've noticed the pattern, you might be wondering why it's Dorian narrating this chapter and not Cullen. My apologies but it was a necessary switch for upcoming events ( as much as it offends my love of order lol). 
> 
> As ever, dialogue in italics is Tevene.

Chapter XXXI

Unwanted Guests

 

 

The first thing Dorian was aware of was a steady pounding in his skull. His mouth was dry and odd tasting and he became increasingly mindful of warm human flesh beneath him. Groaning, he cracked his eyes open, wincing at the light. He knew last night he’d been pushing his limits but, Maker, he must have been really drunk to feel this lousy. He tried to sit up but his head throbbed so insistently he changed his mind again.

“Morning, sleepyhead,” came a raspy voice from above that he felt as much as heard. “How are you doing?” A quick glance about revealed he was lying with his head on Evie’s stomach.

“If I said I’m never drinking again, would you believe me?” he mumbled, attempting to bury himself into the fabric of Evie’s robe. She chuckled and he could feel her muscles twitching with the motion.

“Not in the slightest, amicus,” she murmured, stroking his hair affectionately. “Maker, we must have drank an entire vat between us.”

“I think I drank an entire vat to myself, if the thumping in my head is anything to go by,” the mage groaned. “What in the Void were we doing?”

He could recall only flashes of what had happened after they’d carried Cullen to bed. The blonde had fallen asleep with his head in Evie’s lap and, after stripping him down to his smalls and tucking him in, they’d carried right on playing their game without him. It had gotten decidedly less steamy, with siblings forming two of the three players, but what they’d lacked in sexual intrigue they’d more than made up for in stupidity. He had a hazy memory of Maxwell wearing Evie’s smallclothes, of all things, and he’d been wheedled into telling a particularly embarrassing tale about a time he’d almost thrown up on one of his lovers (tempering his gag reflex was something he’d learned over time).

“What weren’t we doing, would be the better question,” his amicus yawned. He felt her stretch and was about to complain about her jostling him in his delicate state when an arm lodged itself around his waist. Dorian stilled, feeling a stubbly face press kisses to his shoulder. His sleepy assailant muttered something and he could tell from Evie’s giggles what was going on.

“That’s not Max, is it?” he said cautiously, as the arm around him tightened.

“No it is not,” Evie chuckled. “Maker, he’s gotten rather attached to you all of a sudden. Do I have competition, I wonder?”

“It’s no competition, my dear,” Dorian teased her and he groaned when she nudged him in the belly.

“Arse,” she laughed. “I have to say, he seemed to be enjoying himself. Did you happen to notice if he was…?”

She trailed off but her tone was lightly suggestive; Dorian got her meaning well enough.

“I did,” he smirked, “And he was, at least little.” It had been incredibly gratifying, knowing the gorgeous blonde was as turned on as he had been. Maker, the way he moved, the strength in those muscular arms - Dorian felt he enjoyed it rather more than he should have. More pleasing still was the effect it had had on Maxwell. He expected his lover to be sated after dragging him home, removing his little toy and screwing him senseless (all at Dorian’s insistence, of course; a man could only take so much teasing). Yet after seeing him with Cullen, Max had been like a fly on honey. Evie’s presence had been the only thing holding him back from taking Dorian again, and even then it was only barely.

And then there was Evie. Dorian had to admit, he hadn’t stopped to think about how she’d feel with regards to his kissing her man. She’d given Max permission and he’d assumed it would be ok for him too. In the light of day, though, he knew it didn’t work like that and he hoped he hadn’t crossed a line.

“Darling, about all of that,” he began, delicately. “You aren’t cross, are you? I realise I didn’t exactly ask for permission-”

To his relief, Evie just laughed. “Are you kidding?” she asked. “Dorian, it was so hot. I _liked_ seeing that side of him. He’s usually so reserved about such things. It was fun to see his composure slip a little.”

Dorian chuckled, in spite of his hellish hangover. “Such a good sport,” he praised.

“Oh, you two are so loud!” came Max’s voice from nearby. Dorian tried again to raise his head and this time he caught a glimpse of his lover on Evie’s other side, still wearing naught but her lacy smalls and breast-band.  It was quite a sight.

“Mmm, amatus,” he smirked, as he settled back down. “That is a good look on you.”

“What is?” Evie mumbled. “I can’t- oh, _Max!_ I can’t believe you’re still wearing them!” She sounded half-amused, half-scandalised. “Please, for the love of the Maker, put a robe on or something!”

“If you get up and get me one, I will!”

“Don’t you dare,” Dorian scolded her. “I’m quite comfortable here, thank you very much.”

“I don’t think I could move if I wanted to,” Evie pointed out to her brother. “Dorian’s on me and Cullen’s on Dorian…”

“Cullen’s on Dorian?” repeated Max, and he sounded suddenly gleeful. The mattress shifted as he sat up and his waist came into view as he kneeled up to get a good look. “Oh love,” he purred, and he leaned down again his face in kissing distance of Dorian’s. “You are lucky.”

“Good morning to you, too,” Dorian snorted, though he couldn’t help his little smile when Maxwell kissed him sweetly.

“Feeling as rough as a bear’s arse too, love?” the Marcher asked, knowingly.

“I wouldn’t have put it quite like that but yes.”

 Cullen stirred then and all three of them fell deathly still and silent, exchanging glances. Max hovered over them, his expression nothing short of delight.

“Eurgh, Evie,” came an adorably sleepy voice muffled against Dorian’s back. “What in the Maker’s name did I drink last night?”

“Guess again, darling,” Dorian smirked and he felt Cullen stiffen against his back.

“Dorian?” the former Templar whispered and he sounded positively stricken.

“The one and only,” the mage confirmed.

“Where’s Evie?”

“I’m up here, my love,” Evie assured him. “I can’t quite reach you at the moment, I’m afraid. Someone is using me for a pillow, still.”

“And what a dreadful job you’re doing,” Dorian yawned. “You keep moving.”

“Maker, what did we _do_ last night?” asked Cullen incredulously. “And where in Void are my clothes?” His warmth at Dorian’s back suddenly disappeared. He moved so fast that the bed jolted and the Tevinter groaned at the way his stomach flipped.

“Do you mind?” he grumbled. “I’m feeling rather delicate, here.”

“Cullen, darling, your clothes are on the dresser,” Evie said pacifyingly. “You fell asleep last night so we brought you to bed, that’s all.”

“It’s what you were doing before you fell asleep that you need to be concerned about,” Max teased. “I had no idea you were so adventurous!”

“Max!” Evie hissed, her tone reprimanding.

“… are you wearing Evie’s underwear?” asked Cullen weakly and Dorian simply couldn’t take it anymore; he _had_ to see what was going on. Gritting his teeth, he sat bolt upright. The initial thudding in his head was so bad that the room span but, after a couple of seconds, it dulled down to a steady throb.  Blinking, the Tevinter surveyed the scene before him: Cullen standing by the bed in his smalls, flushed and horrified; Max kneeling beside him in Evie’s underwear, grinning; Evie, propped up on her elbows between the two, looking increasingly concerned.

“Fetching, isn’t it?” smirked Maxwell, spreading his arms out wide without a hint of shame. “I could do without the breast-band, though. I don’t know how you wear these things all the time, Evie.”    

Cullen could only stare, bemused. “I…This is ridiculous,” he muttered. “ _You_ are ridiculous.”

“Not what you said last night, handsome,” the rogue grinned, with an exaggerated wink. “Who knew Chantry boys could kiss like that!”          

Cullen’s eyes widened and he turned so pink, Dorian was surprised he didn’t burst into flame.  He turned about heel and was stalking for the washroom before anyone could think to say anything.

“Damn it, Max,” Evie moaned, and she slipped off the bed, tearing after her lover. “Cullen!”                                                       

She slipped in after him, closing the door behind her. Dorian sighed.

“Subtlety is not your forte, is it, amatus?” he murmured. Maxwell wrapped around him from behind, pressing a kiss to Dorian’s throat.

“I thought joking might help him be more comfortable about it,” the rogue reasoned, sounding genuinely confused. “Apparently not.”

“I suspect our dear Templar might not be ready for such openness just yet,” Dorian countered. “Though it was sweet of you to try.” He turned at the waist, glancing at as much of the Marcher as he could. “And pay no attention to his barbs. You look stunning in lace.”

Maxwell smirked jauntily. “You think so?” he purred, and he sat back on his haunches, displaying the long lines of his body for Dorian’s eyes to feast upon. The mage let his gaze rake over his lover, appreciating the way the pink lace strained to contain his manhood – and that was with him soft. He could just imagine him hard, the flushed tip of his cock peeking out from the delicate fabric. Maker, it was quite an image.

“Absolutely,” Dorian nodded. “In fact, I think you should wear them all day.”

Max chuckled and he was just about to respond when there came an almighty knocking on the bedroom doors. The mage groaned, covering his ears against the noise.

“Vishante kaffas, my head!” he groaned, his very skull throbbing in protest. The hammering came again, even louder this time, and Dorian heard Ellery’s frantic voice on the other side of the doors.

“My Lord!” she cried. “Please open up, my Lord, it’s urgent!”

Dorian glanced at Maxwell and they both shared a frown of concern before he slipped off the bed.

“Here, cover yourself,” he murmured, pulling a pair of bath robes from a wardrobe and tossing one to Max. He threw on one himself, tying it hastily, before he went to open the door. His housekeeper was in the hallway and looked every bit as fraught as she sounded.

“My Lord, forgive me,” she murmured. “I didn’t know what else to do. The guards at the door are trying their best to keep them out but they’re becoming insistent!”

“Calm down,” he bid her, in spite of the sudden rise of his own heart rate. “Who is it?”

“Your parents, my Lord!” Ellery breathed. “They’re adamant they want to see you and they’re not happy at being kept outside!”

Dorian’s eyes widened and his stomach lurched. He threw a wild look over his shoulder at Max, who was already hastily gathering his things. “Delay them as long as you can,” he asked of Ellery, who nodded, her brow levelling in focus. She headed for the hallway and Dorian dashed back into the bedroom, pounding on the washroom door.

“Evie, we have company!” he barked. “We need to get Cullen out of here now!”

The door was wrenched open and Evie appeared, looking pale and alarmed. “Who?” she asked.

“My parents,” he murmured, and the frisson of fear that passed over her cut him to the bone. He watched her turn back into the washroom, reaching out to her beloved.

“Cullen-” she began, but he was already moving, already striding for the door with steely determination.

“I heard,” he muttered, and he strode out of the door and past Dorian, to the dresser upon which his clothing was folded. Dorian found it impressive how formidable he could seem clad only in his underwear. “I’ll go down to the servants’ wing and change,” he said, as he pulled on his breeches. “I’ll be back up before you know it.” He threw rest of his clothing hurriedly over his shoulder and turned back to face Dorian. “Do _not_ let her out of your sight,” he growled, pointing at Evie, and then he was gone, all but running for the servants’ wing. Dorian stared after him for a moment, moved but not surprised by his protectiveness.

“I’ll see you shortly, love,” Max murmured, kissing Dorian on the cheek as he too made for the door. “Don’t worry, we’ve got this under control.”

The rogue left for their own room and Dorian turned to Evie, his stomach churning with nerves. She grasped his hand.

“He’s right,” she murmured. “We’ve prepared for this. There’s nothing to worry about.”

Dorian rather thought there was plenty to worry about, in particular why his parents were there in the first place, but he refrained from saying so. Instead he squeezed Evie’s hand and the pair of them wandered out of the bedroom together and into the great room, which had mercifully been tidied since the night before. A great commotion was occurring in the hallway beyond and it seemed they’d gotten their lovers out of there just in the nick of time.

“ _We are his parents and our wishes supersede his own!”_ came his mother’s angry voice. “ _Now get out of my way or I’ll mar the other half of that face - not that it needs it!_ ”

There was a great clatter as the front doors were apparently thrown back and Dorian steeled himself just in time to see his mother and father stride into to the room. Evie stiffened at his side and he pulled her in close, glowering at his parents with all the anger he felt.

“ _What is the meaning of this?_ ” he sneered. “ _What reason could you possibly have for forcing your way into my home without invitation?_ ”

“ _You can drop the wounded tone, Dorian,_ ” his father drawled. “ _As long as we are your parents, we have no need of reason nor invitation._ ”

“ _And what do you mean by having your guards refuse us entry, like we’re common riff raff?_ ” his mother hissed.

“ _I should have thought my meaning was obvious,_ ” Dorian snapped. “ _You’re not welcome here, not_ _after the stunt you pulled last time!”_

“ _A necessary manoeuvre,_ ” Aquinea shrugged, without a hint of remorse, and Dorian’s blood boiled. “ _Someone needs to make sure you take your duties seriously. Hence why we’re here._ ”

“ _Oh? Come to inflict some more violations on our persons and privacy? Why don’t you just set up a gallery in the bedroom? Watch us have sex, hm?_ ”

“ _There’s no need to be vulgar,_ ” his father reprimanded him. “ _We are simply here to check up on how you are doing and to offer our support for your upcoming function._ ”

“ _My…oh, you’re not serious_ ,” Dorian shook his head in exasperation. “ _I do not require your support! I am capable of hosting such an event on my own, thank you very much.”_

“ _So you say,”_ Aquinea smirked. “ _Yet if this is as important to you as you say it is, you cannot afford to be without our influence and well you know it._ ”

Dorian opened his mouth to argue but, to his great irritation, he couldn’t actually think of anything to negate their point. His chances of promotion _would_ be greatly increased if his parents were to be seen supporting it and that rankled him more than words could say.

“ _I don’t want your influence_ ,” he muttered, eventually. “ _I can do this **without** your influence._ ”

“ _We thought you might say that,”_ said his mother, with a venomous smile. “ _So we come with an offer. Allow us to assist you in this endeavour and we will allow you some time with regards to an heir… for now, at least.”_

_“And if I don’t?”_ Dorian challenged.

_“We will be forced to take a more active interest,”_ said Halward, _“which will require regular input on our part.”_

Dorian snorted. _“I see,”_ he spat. _“So I’m expected to put up with this violation of our privacy to prevent **further** violations of our privacy?” _

_“If you like_ ,” his mother smirked.

The mage glanced aside at Evie, who gave him an almost imperceptible shrug. Her expression was carefully neutral but he could see the anger blazing in her eyes. Over her shoulder, he spied Cullen standing against the wall, looking nowhere and everywhere all at once. He hadn’t even noticed the man slip into the room – no one had.

_“Well, it seems I have no choice but to accept,”_ he said, begrudgingly. _“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I shall leave my staff to ensure that you are comfortable. Evelyn and I would like to dress before breakfast.”_

He shot his parents one last furious look before turning away, dragging Evie with him. Cullen remained standing at the wall until they’d passed him then followed at respectable distance.

“What’s going on?” he muttered, once they were out of sight. “What did they say?”

“It would appear they’re staying for the party,” said Dorian bitterly. “We’re going to have to be very careful.”

“It’s only a couple of days,” Evie reminded him, though her voice was shaking a little. “We can manage that, surely?”

“We have little choice,” Dorian sighed. They came to the door of Evie’s room and Cullen ushered them inside.

“Go and change,” he muttered. “I’ll stand guard out here. Once they’ve been shown to a room, I’ll get the message to Max as well.”

“Tell him to come to breakfast,” the Tevinter instructed. “It’ll look worse for him if he tries to keep out of the way.”

Cullen nodded and, after a brief, affectionate glance at Evie, he took up a position outside the double doors. Dorian closed them behind them and blew out a long sigh.

“Venhedis,” he hissed. “Why now? For the love of the Maker!”

With all the drama out of the way, his hangover had returned full force, the pounding in his head so fierce it made him wince. Evie placed her hands reassuringly on his shoulders, looking deep into his eyes. “It’s going to be alright,” she promised him. “We can do this for a couple of days. That’s all it is.”

“I’m surprised you’re so calm about this,” he admitted, rubbing at his temples. “After what happened…”

The redhead let out a humourless laugh and she removed one of her hands from his shoulder, holding it out between them. It was trembling.

“I’m not calm,” she murmured. “Anything but. But I won’t panic and lose my head. I might as well admit defeat now.” She glanced up then, her vivid emerald eyes bright and determined. “We can do this, Dorian.”

Dorian smiled weakly. “You’re right, of course,” he sighed. “I’m so sorry, Evie. You know I’d never have them-”

“I know,” she assured him, and she folded him into a tight embrace. Dorian leaned his chin on her shoulder, breathing in the sweet scent of her hair. “For what it’s worth, I’m not worried. I think Cullen would sleep outside of the door before he’d let her near me again.”

The Tevinter chuckled. “Is he alright, your Templar?” he asked, softly. “He seemed a little stricken earlier.”

Evie pulled away then and she fixed him with a wry smile. “I think ‘firmly in denial’ is the term you’re looking for,” she said. “He was insistent that is was just a game and it meant nothing.”

“Give him time, amicus,” he advised her. “It might have been as much as a surprise to him as it was to you. It takes some people that bit longer to figure themselves out, is all.”

“I just don’t want him beating himself up over it,” Evie sighed.

“Oh, he will do, whether you want it or not,” Dorian smirked. “That’s just the sort of man he is. You’ll simply have to work extra hard to convince him that you enjoyed it as much as he did.”

Evie laughed. “When did you get so sage?” she teased.

Dorian feigned offence. “I beg your pardon?” he gasped. “I have always been a font of wisdom. The fault is yours if you didn’t see it.”

“If you say so,” smiled Evie, though the gesture faltered quickly. “I guess we should find something to wear, hm? Can’t put it off for too long.”

“We most certainly can,” Dorian scoffed. “It’ll serve them right for turning up at such an ungodly hour, the morning after Satinalia! In fact, I think I might take a bath. But first, something for this blighted headache. Maker, I am never drinking that much wine again.”


	35. Watching from the Wings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen plays his part well, as frustrating as it is. Fortunately, standing around gives him much time to think.

Chapter XXXII

Watching from the Wings

 

 

For once, Cullen’s cover of ‘personal guard’ was benefitting him. So far, he’d had a scant few opportunities to put it to good use. Lately, it had been less ‘personal guard’ and more ‘personal assistant’, with Dorian making full use of having the man as a shadow (“Cullen, do be a dear and pass me that quill, will you?”, “Kaffas! I’m out of parchment. Cullen, would you mind?”). However, with Dorian’s parents around, the former Templar was glad of an iron clad excuse to watch over everything.  

He escorted Dorian and Evie to breakfast that morning, walking several paces behind them.

“I meant what I said,” he muttered, just as they were about to head into the dining hall. “Don’t let her out of your sight.”

Dorian glanced over his shoulder and fixed him with a shrewd smirk.

“Don’t worry your pretty, blonde head,” he promised. “I’ll take good care of your beloved.”

He tossed him a wink but Cullen only stared flatly back, determined not to take the bait. Dorian turned away again, muttering something about him being no fun.

The Pavus’ were already seated at the far end of the dining table when they entered. Cullen followed Evie and Dorian into the room then took up a position just inside the door, standing straight and to attention, looking at no one. He could feel their eyes upon him but he refrained from meeting their gaze.

“This one’s new,” Aquinea noted. “Did you finally take your Father’s advice and hire some additional security?”

“Not that I’m not perfectly capable of defending myself but yes, I did,” Dorian replied tartly.

“A wise decision,” said Halward Pavus, sagely. “The envy of your peers in an unfortunate by-product of success.”

“So is the sudden interest of your parents in your affairs,” muttered Dorian, and Cullen had to bite his lip to keep from smirking.

Ellery set about serving them all tea then and Cullen saw fit to take in the scene. Halward was frowning at his son, his expression set in a look of annoyed exasperation. Aquinea, meanwhile, had her eyes on her cup. She was an incredibly attractive woman for her age and Cullen could clearly see where Dorian got most of his beauty from. He blinked, wondering precisely when he had come to see the other man as beautiful. Men weren’t beautiful… were they? Now Evie, Evie was beautiful; all soft eyes and gentle curves and smooth, alabaster skin. Even Aquinea, as much as loathed to admit it, was beautiful, albeit in a more feline, sultry sort of way. But Dorian? Cullen allowed his eyes to rake over the mage, taking in his smoky eyes, the aristocratic planes of his cheekbones, his plump and velvety lips. Maker, who was he kidding, the man was the very definition of masculine beauty and he couldn’t lie to himself; he’d enjoyed kissing him. But what did that mean?

Thankfully, he was saved from wallowing in his own introspect by the arrival of Maxwell. The man was impeccably dressed –in his own clothing, mercifully – and his glossy, chestnut hair had been swept back into an elegant cue. Dorian rose as his lover entered and Maxwell went to his side.

“Ah, I believe you remember Evie’s brother Maxwell?” he said, by way of an introduction. “He’s staying with us whilst he conducts some business for his father in the city.”

Maxwell beamed, remarkably convincingly, and he shook hands with Dorian’s parents.

“We hear much about you, Maxwell,” Aquinea said with a thin smile, as Max took a seat beside Evie. “Josef Trevelyan’s charismatic son is gaining quite a reputation for himself amongst Tevinter’s nobility. You have many maidens clamouring for your hand.”

Cullen saw Dorian’s brow contract infinitesimally but he wisely said nothing.

“So my mother keeps telling me,” Max grinned. “However my father and I agree that my being… unattached is in the best interest of the business.”

“A shrewd decision,” the woman chuckled. “It’s easy to see why you do so well here.”

The flirtatious look she gave the rogue went unnoticed by her husband but Cullen saw it for what it was. So did Dorian, if the sudden flaring of his nostrils was anything to go by. His hands tightened around his teacup and Cullen saw Evie grasp his wrist reassuringly.  

“So, Dorian,” said Halward, obliviously. “Tell us more about this party. Who have you invited?”

“No one you’ll approve of, I’m sure,” Dorian muttered, but he relented at an exasperated look from his sire. “Fine. I’ve invited Gereon and Felix, naturally; the man was my mentor, who better to sing my praises? I’ve also invited Maevaris, Decimus, Sabina and four of the examining senior enchanters.”

“Which four?” Halward pressed.

“Seneca, Valens, Drusilla and Cassian.”

“Hmm,” Aquinea frowned. “You know Seneca will drink you out of house and home?”

Her son scoffed. “I am aptly prepared for the eventuality, I assure you.”

“And what of your menu?” she asked. “Is it discerning enough?”

Dorian heaved a put-upon sigh and he proceeded to recount, in detail, the intricacies of his menu. Cullen glanced away, having heard enough of this particular topic over the last week. The mage had agonised over every individual aspect of each dish, to the point that Cullen had wanted to tear his own hair out. Food was food, was it not? As long it was well done, did it really matter? Apparently, he was alone in that particular opinion, judging by the number of times Evie and Maxwell had been sucked up in the conversation too.

And speaking of Evie, her in-laws were not taking too kindly to the revelation that she would be contributing to the menu.

“You’re not serious?” Aquinea sneered. “Dorian, please don’t tell me you’ve been letting her muck in in the kitchens? Maker’s breath.”

Evie’s face crumpled, her expression of hurt so tangible that Cullen ached to reach out to her. It was a sign of the strength of their friendship that, for all the times Dorian had teased Evie about her hobby, he was quick to rise to her defence.

“Firstly,” he began, hotly, “I would never presume to ‘let’ Evelyn to do anything; I am not her master. Secondly, although I had some initial misgivings, it transpires that she’s actually very good. I’d be a fool not to encourage her.”

Evie beamed at him, eyes glistening as he took her hand and squeezed it tightly. Something inside Cullen lurched at seeing them interact so familiarly. Not envy this time, though, something warmer, something he couldn’t put a name to.

“I can vouch for my sister’s talent,” Maxwell added. “And I think it would be a unique and personal touch to have her food served to the guests.”

Dorian’s parents exchanged a sceptical look.

“You can pull those faces as much as you want,” Dorian glared. “It’s happening, simple as that. If you don’t like it, you know where the door is.”

“Dorian,” said Halward, his tone warning.

“Don’t you ‘Dorian’ me,” his son snapped. “I will not be dictated to in my own home. It’s enough that you’ve bullied your way through the doors, do not presume to tell me how things should be done.”

“I promise you, the dishes I prepare will be executed to the highest standard,” Evie said quietly, though she had a look of steely determination in her emerald eyes. “If you like, I can prepare something to accompany tonight’s dinner? Allow you to sample for yourself?”

“If it pleases you, dear,” sighed Aquinea, as one might speak to a bothersome child. “We will be back for dinner, won’t we, Halward?”

“I believe so,” her husband responded.

“You’re going somewhere?” Dorian asked, and to say he sounded hopeful would have been an understatement.

“You don’t have to sound so pleased to be rid of us, my son,” Halward frowned. “But yes. Your mother and I have an engagement with Magister Naevius this afternoon.”

“Ah, what a pity,” said Dorian sarcastically. “And here I thought we could take tea on the balcony, do a little crochet.”

Halward merely rolled his eyes.

 

*

 

The afternoon came as a much needed reprieve. Tensions between Dorian and his parents were high – understandably so, Cullen thought – and everyone was glad to see the back of them, for Dorian’s sake as much as their own. The man had been short-tempered and snappish all morning and he practically deflated the moment they set foot out of the door.

“Vishante kaffas,” he hissed. “I don’t know how much more of this I can take.”

Maxwell enveloped him in his arms, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

“You’re coping admirably, love,” he told him. “I’d have punched them by now were it me.”

Dorian let out a shaky laugh against Max’s neck. “I’ve been tempted, I assure you,” he muttered. “If my mother so much as looks at you like that again, I can’t promise I won’t do _something_.”

“She’s probably just doing it to piss off your father,” shrugged Max. “You said she’s done it before.”

“It is her favourite past time,” Dorian admitted.

Cullen looked to Evie then, making eye contact with her for the first time in hours. She smiled warmly and crossed the room to his side.

“You’re doing wonderfully, my love,” she said adoringly, placing her palms upon his chest. “I know it must be hard for you to have to stand and watch this whole charade.”

“It’s harder still knowing what that woman had done to you,” Cullen frowned. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” she promised. “You’re here. Why wouldn’t I be?”

The blonde could only imagine how silly his smile was but he couldn’t help himself. Clearly, he was getting too used to the luxury of her company. It had only been that morning since they’d last been properly together but it felt like an age.

“I’m going down to the kitchens to get started on tonight’s dessert,” she murmured. “Come with me?”

Cullen cast a brief glance over her shoulder, to where Maxwell and Dorian were now kissing passionately. The sight made his mouth go dry and he had to look away. He nodded mutely to Evie, who beamed and took him by the hand, leading him out of the great room.

“Be careful, you two,” she called over her shoulder. “Make sure you lock the door, won’t you?”

Maxwell waved her off over Dorian’s shoulder and she laughed.

“So,” she said, once they were out of earshot. “We didn’t really get to finish our conversation earlier.”

“Maker, Evie,” Cullen groaned. “Must we continue to discuss this? I already feel awful about the whole thing.”

The redhead shot him an exasperated look, softened only by the gentle smile that played about her lips.

“And I’ve told you,” she murmured, “you have nothing to feel awful about. It was a harmless game between consenting adults.”

“Precisely,” said the former Templar. “So can we just leave it at that?”

Evie looked as though she might argue but she simply sighed and shook her head. “If you wish,” she murmured. “Just know that I am here, should ever wish to discuss… anything. I love you, Cullen. No matter what.”

Cullen flushed, both with pleasure and guilt. Clearly, she had some suspicion that he’d enjoyed himself with Dorian and Max. Clearly, she hoped they could talk about it. But Maker, he just wasn’t ready. He could barely process it himself let alone admit it to the woman he loved – the woman he had essentially proposed to last night. It made him feel dreadful.

“So, what is it you’re making?” he asked, as they entered the kitchens together.

“I was thinking that chocolate and raspberry opera cake I showed you last week,” she smiled.

He remembered the one. The illustration in the book had been magnificent – all intricate layers and dark, glossy chocolate.

“Maker, Evie,” he chuckled. “You know you have nothing to prove to these people? They’re not worth the fuss.”

“On the contrary, I have everything to prove,” she said, determinedly. “After what happened the last time that wretched woman was here, I’m not going to let her get one over on me again. Even if it is just a cake.”

She looked so fiercely tenacious that Cullen could do naught but smile.

“When you put it like that,” he murmured. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

Evie smiled in turn and she bobbed up on her toes to wrap her arms around his neck. “You can start by giving me my morning kiss,” she uttered. “We were rudely interrupted, if I recall correctly.”

“So we were,” the blonde smirked. “Allow me to rectify that immediately.”

He cradled the back of her head with one hand and his lips captured hers in an unhurried kiss that had his blood roaring in his veins. Maker, she still took his breath away, as much now as the very first time. Kissing Dorian (and Max) had been pleasurable yes, but this was something else. It felt… right. Like home.

“So,” he breathed, when they eventually pulled apart. “Cake?”

“What?” Evie whispered, gazing at him with love-drunk eyes. Cullen grinned and she flushed, shaking her head. “Oh, of course. The cake. Yes. I should… get started, I suppose.”

Cullen chuckled and he followed her into the pantry, determined to help in any way that he could.

 

*

 

Having to stand around and watch other people eat when he was ravenous was hardly pleasant but Cullen was glad of it when he got to see Evie’s moment of triumph. Her dessert had been a roaring success and even her mother-in-law had been forced to concede that Evie’s talent was indeed prodigious.

“Not that cooking is an appropriate hobby for a lady,” she’d had to add, tartly. “However, I cannot deny that your results are exemplary.”

They’d retired to the great room for brandy and chess shortly after and Cullen had been ‘dismissed’ for the night.

It was odd, making his way into the servants’ wing. He’d never expected to have to sleep in this bed, never expected to have to leave the woman he loved to a night in another man’s arms. A few scant weeks ago, it would likely have sickened him with envy to think of Dorian in bed with his Evie. Now, he merely felt a sort of loss knowing he wouldn’t have her arms around him as he succumbed to sleep.

The lamps were freshly lit as he made his way to his bunk. The staff all slept in the same dormitory, though there hangings and screens for privacy. Augura and Loretta were chatting amicably in Tevene when he entered, sitting on the ends of their beds. Cullen nodded to them as he passed and they both gave him the same sympathetic smile.

“I’d hoped you’d never have to use that bed, messere,” said Augura, switching to common. “You missed dinner, by the way, so I saved you a little something. I hope that’s alright.”

Cullen spotted the tray on his night stand, loaded with bread, cheese, a little sliced meat and some fruit, and his stomach rumbled anew.

“Thank you,” he murmured. “It didn’t even occur to me that I wouldn’t be joining them at the dinner table until it was too late.”

He sank down onto his bunk – harder than the luxurious bed he shared with Evie but not exactly uncomfortable – and he pulled the tray towards him.

“It’s not much I’m afraid,” Augura apologised. “Branden polished off the last of the soup.”

“It’s perfect, thank you,” the blonde smiled. “I’ve lived off far less.”

He reached eagerly for a lump of cheese when he noticed a little piece of folded parchment wedged between the plate and the tray. Frowning, he glanced up at the two women, who were watching him with bright eyes and giddy smiles.

“Lady Trevelyan asked me to give that to you,” the dwarf explained. “She asked me to leave it on your pillow but this seemed as good as.”

Curious, Cullen picked up the parchment and he unfolded it to reveal a short note in Evie’s neat, flowing script. He read it, aware of two pairs of eyes watching his every move.

 

**My Love,**

**It occurs to me that I will likely not get chance to say goodnight to you this evening so I thought to pen you one instead. Know that even though we are apart, I will be thinking of you. I will be thinking of how you kiss my neck as you fall asleep, how warm and safe I feel when I am lying in your arms. I will be thinking of you in the morning when I wake and how you pull me on top of you, kissing me like it’s the first morning we’ve ever woken in each other’s embrace.**

**I pray you sleep soundly, my sweet. It won’t be long until we’re back in the same bed.**

**Forever yours,**

**E.**

Cullen read and reread the note several times, biting his lip to hold back the goofy smile that threatened. He couldn’t stop the blush though and it did not go unnoticed by the elf and dwarf sitting across the room.

“Pleasant reading, messere?” Loretta asked, giggling.

Cullen shot them a wry smile.

“Less of that,” he smirked, as they both dissolved into laughter. “It wasn’t _that_ kind of letter.”

It didn’t stop from them from giggling though, whispering amongst themselves in hurried Tevene. Cullen picked at his meal, his lips curved in an unflappable smile as he thought of the woman he loved. He didn’t have her company but he did have her heart and that would get him through any number of nights he had to spend apart from her, knowing she’d miss him as much as he missed her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eurgh. I just made myself sick. Who needs Halloween candy when you've got this sort of tooth-rotting stuff going on? ;) 
> 
> Seriously though, this was weird to write. It's odd writing from someone's POV when they're not interacting much with the scene. I hope it's ok!


	36. The Banquet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The day of Dorian's dinner party arrives and it's all hands on deck.

Chapter XXXIII

The Banquet

 

For the first time since his arrival in Tevinter, Evie woke up without Cullen at her side. It was an odd feeling, as though she were missing some vital part of her person. She ached to feel his warmth at her back, the sleepy, soft kisses he’d press to her neck as he came to. Without them, even the humid Tevinter morning felt a little cold.

Sighing, she glanced across at her bed mate, who was still fast asleep, his plump lips slightly parted. He looked relaxed, at last, something he certainly hadn’t been yesterday. Having his parents around was clearly hard for Dorian. She wondered if there was any love left beneath all that blatant dislike or if the damage was just too great. Either way, it was a difficult situation and he was clearly chafing under their constant criticism.

Evie ran her fingers gently through his tousled hair, smiling when he leaned into the touch. He mumbled something drowsily and his eyelids flickered open.

“Gazing at me adoringly as I sleep?” he murmured, with a lazy smile. “Can’t say I blame you.”

Evie snorted and she flicked him teasingly on the end of the nose. She laughed when he frowned, slipping out of the bed and beyond his reach before he could seek retribution.

“Come along, Sleeping Beauty,” she smirked. “We’ve a busy day ahead of us.”

“Don’t remind me,” he grumbled, as he sat up in bed, rubbing at bleary eyes. Evie made her way to her vanity, when she began to unbraid her hair. She could see Dorian in the mirror, making no real move to get up.

“Are you ready for this?” she asked him softly, watching his expression in the mirror. He smirked, knowing full well she could see him, and gave a jaunty raise of his brows.

“’Am I ready?’ she asks,” he chuckled. “Amicus, I was made for such things. This will be a breeze.”

Evie shot him a sceptical look through the mirror and he sighed.

“Alright,” he admitted, “I am a little nervous. I didn’t anticipate my parents being here. It rather complicates matters.”

“It’ll be alright,” the redhead assured him. “We’ve planned this down the last detail. Tonight will be a success and they’ll be gone before you know it.”

She flashed him a smile and he ventured one in return, though it hardly seemed confident. Yawning, he slipped off the bed and padded over to where she was sitting.

“They’ll be back though, won’t they?” he said glumly, as she scooted over to make room for him. “They haven’t got what they want yet.”

Evie bit her lip. “So we don’t give them reason to,” she whispered and she wasn’t surprised when Dorian turned to stare at her incredulously. “We’re going to have to get on with this baby thing eventually,” she pointed out. “I’m in no rush to become a mother but at the same time, knowing it’s going to come and putting it off… it has me in shreds, Dorian.”

The Tevinter hummed thoughtfully, giving her a sympathetic look. “Strangely, I know what you mean,” he sighed. “Alright, then. After this whole party business is done with… we’ll…” he faltered and she heard his throat working to swallow. “We’ll get on with it,” he finished, hoarsely.

She smiled flatly and slipped an arm around his bare waist. Dorian leaned into the embrace and he drew her close with an arm about her shoulders.

“We’re not alone, remember,” she murmured, turning her head to kiss his cheek. “Max and Cullen, they’re right behind us.”

“I know, amicus,” he said softly. “I know.”

They remained like that for several moments, Evie grounding herself in Dorian’s warmth, in his familiar scent. When they eventually parted, she felt bolstered and she gave her friend her most determined smile.

“Ok, no more of that today,” she decided. “We have a performance to give, after all, and it requires our focus.”

Dorian laughed. “Why Evie, you almost sound as though you’re looking forward to it!”

“In a way, I am,” she smirked, as she picked up her hairbrush. “I think I could quite enjoy all this acting business – you know, if our lives weren’t riding on it. I might have missed a calling.”

“Evelyn Trevelyan, sweetheart of the stage,” he chuckled. “No, I think not. You’re far too innocent for such a cut-throat business.”

“I’m doing alright here, am I not?” she frowned, which only prompted him to laugh harder.

“Of course you are, my sweet, sheltered little flower,” he grinned. “Because I never let you out of my sight. You wouldn’t last five minutes in Tevinter on your own.”

Evie scowled and she shoved at the man in frustration.

“Rude,” she muttered, though she knew, deep down, he was right.

 

*

 

The evening’s arrival brought with it a heady mixture of excitement and trepidation. Everything was in order. After a hectic afternoon in the kitchen, Evie’s desserts were ready to go and the staff were on stand-by, awaiting their party of hungry guests. The apartment was looking resplendent. Fresh flowers bloomed from every vase and urn, and the servants had spent all morning hanging a set of new and rather expensive paintings in the great room. Even Evie herself had been polished up for the occasion. She’d been bathed and preened and styled to perfection and she was hanging off Dorian’s arm, looking every bit the Tevinter lady she was meant to be.

Cullen was standing guard in the great room, where Loretta and Ellery were waiting to serve their guests drinks. He looked gorgeous in the smarter uniform Dorian had had made for him and Evie longed to go over and pull him in for a kiss. She couldn’t, of course, not with Halward and Aquinea watching their every move.

“Don’t be too over-familiar,” her mother-in-law instructed, coolly. “It’s important you appear united but not the extent of making your guests uncomfortable.”

“So no tongues or heavy petting? What a shame,” Dorian responded, his voice dropping with sarcasm. Aquinea rolled her eyes and she stalked away, likely to find something else to critique. Evie saw her head turn to Maxwell, who had just entered the room, looking dashing in black and silver. The older woman made a beeline for him and Dorian stiffened with annoyance at Evie’s side.

“Relax,” she whispered. “Your father’s right over there, she’s hardly going to put the moves on him.”

“I think you are severely underestimating my parents’ hatred of each other,” Dorian muttered. He did relax though, if only marginally, as the first of their guests began to arrive. Evie recognised him as Decimus, one of Dorian’s colleagues whom she’d met at the ball last month. The blonde woman on his arm could only be his wife.

“Dorian,” the man greeted him jovially. “What a fabulous place! Who did you have to kill to get your hands on this?”

“Oh, I couldn’t possibly say,” Dorian smiled and he shook the man’s hand. “Do come in, have a drink. You remember my wife, Evelyn?”

“Of course,” he nodded, and he shook Evie’s hand as well. His wife merely gave her a peculiar look, as though she were a snake and she were trying to determine if she was venomous.

“I forget sometimes that most of your countrymen detest southerners,” Evie murmured, as Decimus and his wife went inside to be greeted by the Pavus’.

“Detest is a strong word,” laughed Dorian. “I’d say it was more of a deep-seated disdain.”

“Because that’s much better,” Evie responded, flatly.

Thankfully, their next guest was a familiar and friendly face.

“Dorian, darling,” Magister Tilani greeted him with a kiss on the cheek. “You look positively delicious, as usual.”

“Likewise, Mae,” Dorian beamed. “How was Vyrantium?”

“Dull, compared to this place,” the blonde sniffed. “Living in the capital has clearly spoiled me.”

She turned to Evie then and the redhead was surprised – but delighted – to find herself pulled into a one-armed hug.

“Evie, my little southern treasure,” Maevaris cooed and Evie laughed. “Don’t you look wonderful. How are you?”

“I can’t complain,” Evie replied. “Much,” she added in an undertone, and her eyes flickered towards the expanse of the room. The blonde followed her gaze and she started upon seeing Dorian’s parents.

“Maker,” she murmured. “Dorian, you didn’t tell me your mother and father were coming.”

“They invited themselves,” Dorian frowned. “I assure you, I had no intention of them being here.”

“You poor dear,” sighed Mae. “Are they driving you mad?”

“Only a little,” said Dorian, darkly. Maevaris game him a sympathetic smile.

“Oh my,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. “Is that your dear amatus over there?” she teased, as her crystalline eyes landed on Maxwell. “Isn’t he a treat?”

Evie giggled at the half-amused, half-warning glance her husband shot his friend.

“Hands to yourself, Mae,” Dorian muttered. “It’s bad enough I have to endure my mother pawing at him.”

“I won’t touch, I promise,” she chuckled. “You can’t stop me looking, though,” she added with a grin, and she wandered into the room, casting her wicked smile over her shoulder at Dorian.

“Keep an eye on her,” he warned, though he too was smiling. “She had your Templar all of a flutter too, last she saw him.”

Evie watched with a grin of her own as Maevaris sauntered over to where Max was standing by Cullen, conversing with the man out of the corner of his mouth.

The guests continued to arrive in a steady stream and Evie stood patiently by Dorian’s side, performing her wifely duties with a bright and welcoming smile. Most of the people he’d invited she didn’t know, though she recognised a couple of them from the handful of social functions they’d attended together. There were two more familiar faces, though. Gereon and Felix Alexius were amongst the last to arrive and Evie greeted her husband’s former mentor and her own patron with genuine pleasure.

“Wonderful to see you again, dear,” Gereon smiled, as he shook her hand. “I hear from your tutor that you’re excelling with the Knight-Enchanter training.”

“It’s fantastic, thank you,” beamed Evie. “I’m really enjoying it.”

“I do like a woman who takes pleasure in learning,” the elder Alexius said, prompting a groan from his son.

“He does _not_ mean that the way it sounds,” Felix muttered and he shot his father a pained look. Evie smiled at him, pleased to see his face but still feeling guilty for what had happened when last they met.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that,” he chuckled. “You’ve apologised enough.”

“Hi, Felix,” she murmured, and she pulled the man into a friendly embrace. “It’s good to see you. I’ve missed you, actually.”

“You too,” he grinned. “Playing Wicked Grace for stories isn’t half as much fun with my other friends as it is with you.”

Evie laughed. She took the young man by the arm, leaving Dorian to chat to Gereon, and led him personally into the great room. It was strange seeing their home so full of people and she had to meander around various huddles of guests to reach Loretta and her tray.

“So… which one is he then?” Felix asked quietly, as Evie picked up a couple of goblets and handed one to him.

“Cullen?” she murmured. “He’s over there, against that wall – the blonde.”

She gestured vaguely with a nod of her head and Felix glanced around.

“Ah. Good looking man,” he muttered. “He’s watching you, incidentally.”

Evie chanced a look and sure enough, Cullen was indeed watching her. His face didn’t change, fixed in the same, blank expression that he surely must have been practising. However, she could see the warmth in his honey-coloured eyes and she felt herself blush under his scrutiny. His lip curled, ever so slightly, and Evie had to turn away before she did something foolish.

“Maker, you two have got it bad,” Felix laughed. “No wonder Dorian warned me to keep away.”

“Felix,” Evie began with a sigh but the younger Alexius merely shook his head.

“Honestly, Evie,” he chuckled. “Don’t worry about it. It actually worked out for the best. I’ve just started courting a young woman back home. She’s really nice.”

“Really?” cried Evie, delighted. “Oh, Felix! I’m so glad!”

“Shhh!” he laughed. “My father doesn’t know yet. I don’t want to tell him until I know whether it’s serious or not. But… things are looking good.”

“Oh, Felix! I’m pleased for you,” Evie beamed. “I really am.”

“Thank you,” smiled Felix. “I’m pleased for you too.”

Dorian approached them then, bustling with purpose and haste.

“Everybody’s here,” he informed her. “I’m going to tell Ellery to alert the kitchens and then we can begin seating them all.”

“Are you alright?” she asked, laying a hand on his forearm. “You look a little harried.”

“Fine,” Dorian sighed. “Seneca’s already half in his cups and Cassian seems like he’s ready to murder someone but, other than that, I’m just peachy.”

“Easily solved,” Evie assured him. “Less wine for the former and more for the latter.”

Dorian gave a reluctant chuckle and he shook his head.

“Maker, I fear I shall be greying at the temples before this night is out,” he muttered. “Alright, let me just find Ellery and then we can head into the dining hall. Wait here.”

Evie watched him disappear into the throng; she heaved a sigh of her own.

“I don’t think we’ll be in any hurry to repeat this evening, do you?” she smirked. “He’s already stressing.”

“I hear you’ve lent a hand with the cuisine,” Felix grinned. “You! Of all people!”

“Cheek,” Evie laughed. “Just you wait. I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised.”

Dorian returned presently and the servants began the rather mammoth task of rounding up their guests and shepherding them into the dining room.

The table was meticulously dressed with flowers and set with their finest china and silverware. They’d hired additional servers, who were poised around the edges of the room like sentries, wine bottles at the ready. Cullen took up a position by the door and Evie brushed casually against him as she and Dorian passed, making their way to the head of the table. Dorian had cleverly seated himself at the end, with Evie at his right and Maxwell at his left, opposite his sister. She was pleased to see she had Mae sitting on her other side. Halward and Aquinea were a few spaces further down, next to Seneca and his wife.

“They won’t thank you for that,” Evie smirked, speaking in hushed tones.

“I couldn’t care less,” her husband chuckled. “That’s what they get for gate-crashing.”

Evie laughed softly behind her hand. She caught the eye of the woman beside her and Maevaris gave her an indulgent smile.

“Your Templar cuts a handsome figure in that uniform, my dear,” she uttered softly. “It must be hard on you, having to play such a game.”

“I’m not the only one,” shrugged Evie and let her gaze flicker pointedly to her brother for a moment.

“Oh yes, I know,” the blonde agreed in a whisper. “And I can’t imagine it’s easy for any of you. At least your darling brother has status and family on his side – he and Dorian can be seen conversing without raising suspicion. With your lover posing as the help, however…”

She gave Evie a shrewd and sad sort of smile. Evie sighed, not really sure what she could say.

“We do what we must,” she murmured, after a beat. “It was the only thing we could think of. And I’d much rather have him around like this than not at all.”

“You are a brave girl, my dear,” said the magister gently.

“Nonsense,” Evie laughed. “There are so many far braver than I. Yourself included.” A server dipped between them then and she paused to allow the young man to refill her drink. “Anyway, enough of that,” she said brightly, as he retreated. She raised her goblet discreetly and turned her eyes upon her husband. “To Dorian,” she smiled. “May he succeed in all his endeavours.”

Dorian grinned at her and the four of them – him, Evie, Maxwell and Mae – shared a quiet toast to his success.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have I mentioned how much I love Mae?? <3 The woman's a legend (and a hottie to boot!). I adore writing her. 
> 
> Apologies, this chapter is a touch shorter than usual but it seemed right to end it there considering what I have planned for the next one. 
> 
> Thank you all for reading. ^_^ Hope you had a lovely Halloween!


	37. Lovers' Distress

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dorian's dinner party is going incredibly well. Or, at least, it was...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All dialogue in italics is Tevene.

Interlude III

Lovers’ Distress

 

Max set his fork on his empty plate and leaned back in his chair with a groan. It had been a challenge to finish dessert after the four sumptuous courses prior but he had been determined to do so - not only for the sake of his sister but also because it had been so damnably good.

“It’s official, you’re incredible,” he praised and, across the table, Evie flushed with pleasure. “If you weren’t my sister, I’d marry you myself.”

“That’s the weirdest thing you’ve ever said to me,” Evelyn smiled. “Thank you.”

“You’re a lucky man, Dorian,” said Felix from Max’s left. “Beautiful, talented and she can cook? What more could you ask for?”

Evie almost choked on her wine trying not to giggle and it prompted a chorus of laughter from those close by them.

“What indeed?” asked Dorian, with a fiendish grin. His slate grey eyes flickered Max’s way and the rogue caressed his lover’s thigh softly under the table.

“Everything seems to be going rather well, wouldn’t you say?” he murmured. “The food was sublime, the wine is excellent and even your drunk of a colleague seems to be behaving himself – although it rather looks like he’s talking your father’s ear off.”

“I know,” replied Dorian, gleefully. “It’s hilarious. I’m so glad I thought to sit them together!”

Maxwell chuckled and he drained his goblet, setting it back down on the table.  His gaze flickered up to the wall opposite, where Cullen was standing halfway between one end of the table and the other. Like the servers, he had been there throughout the entire meal, barely moving, not looking any particular way – not noticeably, at least. It made Max feel hideously guilty. The poor man must have been exhausted and probably ravenous, having to smell all their delicious food and not being able to touch a bite of it. Worst of all, to have the object of his affections so close and yet out of reach… it can’t have been easy. Of course, the blonde would take it all in his stride, say he was happy to be able to keep an eye on the woman he loved; that was just the sort of man he was. But it had to be hard for him to watch Evie play wife to Dorian, at least a little. Max himself still found it tough and he’d had much longer to get used to it. He glanced to his sister then, who caught his eye and gave him a wan little smile. Clearly, it was affecting her too.

“It’ll all be over soon,” he told her, quietly. “You’re doing brilliantly.”

Evie tipped her goblet to him. “Likewise, brother,” she murmured. “Likewise.”

Max was about to say that he hardly had the raw end of the deal but then he remembered that his sister had had the good fortune of sleeping with his lover last night, whilst he’d had to sleep in their bed alone. He merely smiled, nodding his head in kind.

The servants came forward to clear the last of their plates then and Evie turned to the enigmatic lady magister sitting beside her. They’d been chatting on and off for most of the evening and his sister had affected a rapt, starry-eyed expression whenever the blonde engaged her.

“I think you might have made a mistake introducing those two,” Maxwell muttered to Dorian. “I’m not sure how I’m going to break it to tall, blonde and handsome over there that my sister has developed a lady crush.”

His lover eyed the two and a bright, genuine laugh bubbled up from his chest.

“I had an inkling they’d get along,” he grinned. “Good for her. She could use a female friend. She spends almost all of her time around men.”

“I’ve never heard her complain,” Max smirked and Dorian chuckled.

The servers who weren’t busy whisking away the last of the china came forward with bottles of brandy and grappa. Max, having never tried the Tevinter delicacy, even in all his months there, decided to opt for the latter.

“Do tell me what it’s like,” Dorian requested, as he accepted a glass of caramel-coloured brandy from a young elven girl. “I couldn’t get hold of the vintage I like but I was assured that this one was just as good.”

Max, who’d yet to touch his drink, set it down on the table and nudged it casually towards his love.

“Try for yourself,” he smiled, warmly. “You’re the one with the discerning palate, after all.”

“So glad you admit it,” Dorian grinned and he surreptitiously picked up Max’s glass, swirling it in his hand. “Looks pretty decent,” he shrugged. He lifted it to his lips, taking a couple of small sips before setting it down on the table again. “Mmm, not bad,” he declared, sounding surprised. “That or I’ve just had one glass of wine too many.”

“You? Too much wine? Never,” Max muttered, smirking. He glanced briefly across the table again, where Evie was now giggling animatedly to some story Maevaris was telling her, her cheeks flushed and her eyes glistening. “Actually, I think maybe your wife’s the one who’s had a glass too many,” he amended, amused by the way his sister was leaning into the magister’s space. “You’d best be careful. You know how affectionate she gets when she’s drunk…”

He turned his grin back upon his lover again, though the gesture quickly faltered. Dorian wasn’t smiling. In fact, he looked exceptionally pale and there were beads of sweat beginning to form upon his temples. Max frowned and he was about to ask what had him so spooked when he saw the blood trickle from the mage’s nostril. Max’s heart all but stopped in his chest. Frantic, he snatched up the glass of grappa that Dorian had been nursing not moments ago and he raised it to his nose. It was hard to tell, for the fruity tang of the alcohol was quite potent, but there, beneath it all, was a bitter, almost herbal sort of scent.

“Fucking quillback venom!” he hissed and he dropped the glass, letting it shatter. Several people gasped. Max’s gaze whipped back to Dorian, who was clutching the edge of table now, trembling, gulping in air.

“Dorian? What’s the matter?” Evie asked, turning wide eyes on her husband.

“He’s been fucking poisoned!” Max cried. “Somebody get me some salt, quickly!”

The room erupted. Several people screamed. Halfway down the table, Dorian’s parents rushed to their feet, clamouring for their son. It was Cullen who came to the rescue though, striding purposefully across the room and snatching up one of the tiny pots of salt that the servants had left behind. Maxwell seized it and he dumped the lot into a tumbler of water, stirring it frantically.

Dorian was rigid in his chair now, his eyes rolled back in his head, body convulsing as he fought for air. Evie was by his side, sobbing and trying desperately to heal him.

“Maker please! Why won’t it stop!” she cried, summoning wave after wave of shimmering green magic. Maxwell kicked his chair out of the way and he was beside his lover in a heartbeat.

“Hold his mouth open!” he ordered. “He needs to drink this!”

Her hands were trembling but Evie managed to obey and Max wasted no time in tipping the salt water down the mage’s throat.

“Come on, Dorian,” he whispered, and he could feel tears of his own pricking at his eyes, his heart near beating out of his chest. The salt water seemed to have the desired effect. Dorian crumpled at the waist and he began to retching violently, emptying his stomach over the floor. There was more screaming. Halward and Aquinea were shouting, pushing their way through the throng that had gathered. Evie and Max held Dorian up, the rogue rubbing his lover’s back with every body-wracking heave.

“Max, what do I do?” Evie whispered. “I don’t know what to do!”

“Just keep him up,” said Max. “He needs to get as much of it out of his system as possible.”

Felix pushed away from the table. “I’m going into the city to find a healer,” he cried. “Do not let him die!”

And he tore out of the room, elbowing people out of the way. Max felt Dorian clutch weakly at his arm and he leaned right in, rubbing his back.

“It’s ok, love,” he whispered. “I’ve got you. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

He said it with more confidence than he felt, trying to beat back the suffocating wall of terror that threatened to cut off his rational thought.  

The sickness stopped as abruptly as it had begun and Dorian flopped back against Max and Evie. His eyes were screwed shut and he was panting heavily, his skin dripping with sweat.

“It’s alright, Dorian,” Evie wept, pressing kiss after kiss to his brow. “You’re going to be alright.”

Max snatched a napkin off the table and he dabbed delicately at his lover’s mouth.

“Max…well…” Dorian managed to croak, before he promptly passed out. Evie staggered under the sudden and full force of his weight and Max adjusted just in time to stop her toppling over.

“What is the meaning of this?” Halward Pavus bellowed, as he finally made his way to the head of the table. “What is wrong with my son?”

“The grappa was poisoned,” Max responded, voice shaking with fear and fury. “I suggest you call the authorities, my Lord. There’s a would-be murderer in our midst.”

“Is he going to die?” gasped Aquinea, her eyes wide, and Max wasn’t quite sure whether it was with concern for her son or something else entirely.

“I…” the rogue wasn’t quite sure how to answer. He desperately wanted to say ‘no’ but the rising panic within him was stealing away his certainty. Maker, what if he wasn’t ok…

“You did the right thing with the salt water,” said a pale and grim-looking Gereon. “Right now, we need to get him somewhere quiet and comfortable until the healer arrives. Then we will know more.”

Cullen stepped forward, gently moving Evie out of the way.

“The master bedroom,” he declared. “I’ll carry him. Everybody out of the way!”

Max reluctantly handed his lover over to the warrior and he followed close behind, his arm tightly around the shaking shoulders of his sister. People cleared a path for them, several leaving the room altogether and heading for the door; it seemed they feared for their own safety as well. Max couldn’t care less if they stayed or left, lived or died. All he could think of was his lover gasping for air, his face stricken with horror. He couldn’t let that be his last moment with the man… he just couldn’t…

“He’ll be alright,” said a gentle voice form beside him and Max turned to see Magister Tilani striding alongside them, Gereon and the Pavus’ following a step behind. She gave him a strained smile but it didn’t mask the moisture in her eyes, the fear he saw growing there.

“He better be,” Max muttered. “Or someone’s going to fucking pay.”

It was all he could say without his voice cracking. He bit his lip, trying desperately to keep his own tears at bay. Instead he squeezed Evie’s hand and she gripped him tightly back, still sobbing without reserve.

They reached the master bedroom and Maxwell opened the doors for Cullen, who wasted no time in hurrying Dorian over to the bed. Evie followed at a run, climbing onto the bed beside him. She placed a hand on his forehead and pulled it away with a gasp.

“He’s burning up,” she murmured tearfully, and she began to undo the fastenings of his ornate formal robes. “Will someone get some water and a washcloth, please?”

“I’m on it, dear,” Mae promised. She strode purposefully to the washroom, ignoring a frazzled Ellery, who was trying to assist in any way she could.

Evie stripped her husband down to his breeches and she knelt beside him, placing her hands on his chest. Her healing magic began to flow. She worked frantically, guiding the swirling tendrils over the unconscious man’s body.

“Evie, love, I’m not sure how much that’s going to help,” Max whispered but she ignored him, pouring herself into her task. The rogue felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned to see the elder Alexius standing behind him, watching Evie with a sad, pitying sort of look.

“Leave her be, my boy,” he murmured. “If it keeps her together…”

Maxwell nodded and he cast a look at Cullen, who was still standing at the far side of the bed. The man was pale and he seemed stricken, though it was clear he was trying to stay in control. There was worry in his amber eyes and his hands were twitching futilely at his sides.

Maevaris returned then with a basin of water, which she set on the nightstand. She handed Evie a dampened washcloth and the redhead took it with a murmur of thanks, laying across Dorian’s sweat-soaked brow.

“I don’t know what more I can do,” she whispered, as she began to cast again.

“You’re doing wonderfully, dear girl,” Mae praised her hoarsely. “We’ll know more once the healer arrives.”

Evie nodded. She took Dorian’s hand in hers and Max’s heart ached, wishing he could do the same. His lover’s breathing was shallow and, even in his unconscious state, expressions of pain were flitting across his face. The rogue could hardly stand it.

“Who could have done this to him?” Maevaris wondered. “He’s such a sweet, bright soul, how could anyone want to hurt him?”

Maxwell bit his lip. The truth was that the poisoner, whomever they might be, hadn’t been targeting Dorian at all: they’d been targeting him. Unless somehow they’d known that Dorian would drink from Max’s glass, which the Marcher found unlikely. Maker, if Dorian died because of a grudge against _him_ , Max would never, ever forgive himself.

Thankfully, the healer did not take much longer to arrive. It was a man, not the same one who’d been summoned last time, and he made his way hurriedly to the bedside.

“ _I understand you suspect a poisoning_ ,” he said, as he set down his bag. Evie released Dorian’s hand and ceased her spell, shuffling back on the bed to allow the man room to work.

“ _Quillback venom_ ,” Max murmured. “ _I’m sure of it_.”

The healer tutted. “ _Do you perchance still have the tainted beverage_?”

“ _I… no, I’m sorry_ ,” sighed Max. “ _I smashed it in my haste to attend to my brother-in-law._ ”

“ _Never mind, never mind. Lord Alexius tells me you were the one who administered an emetic? Very astute of you, ser.”_

“ _I wasn’t even sure it would work_ ,” Max admitted, in a small voice. “ _I’ve only ever read about it in stories_. _It was just the first thing I thought of._ ”

“ _Well, it was the best thing you could have done_ ,” the healer assured him. “ _There’s not much one **can** do in such circumstances. I have a potion that will aid to scour his body of whatever toxin remains but ultimately, this fight is his.”_

_“Will he live, messere?”_ Evie asked, her eyes brimming with fresh tears.

“ _Well, he’s still alive now, which is more than one can usually say of most people who ingest quillback venom,”_ the healer admitted, rummaging around in his bag. “ _The next few hours will be crucial, however. It all depends on how much of poison lingered in his system and what damage it might have done.”_ He pulled a tall, thin bottle out of his bag and set it in the table. The greenish-black liquid inside swirled and glimmered with iridescence. It oozed, thick like syrup, as the healer poured some into a small cup. “ _I recommend two fingers of this every hour until dawn_ ,” he said. “ _My Lady, would you mind…?”_

Evie nodded and she leaned over Dorian, gently pulling his lower jaw and opening his mouth. The healer passed her the beaker. Her hands trembled as she took it, raising it to Dorian’s parted lips and tipping it down his throat. She closed his mouth for good measure, leaving his unconscious body little choice but to swallow it.

“ _Is that all we can do?”_ asked Maxwell.

The healer gave him a sympathetic grimace.

“ _I’m afraid so, my Lord_ ,” he said. “ _Other than keeping the inevitable fever down, that is. Just be ready for him when he wakes. He’ll be quite out of sorts._ ”

“ _Thank you,_ ” Evie whispered. “ _Will you stay? Please, in case something happens. We have spare rooms._ ”

“ _Of course_ ,” said the healer, bowing neatly at the waist. “ _I’ll take my leave for now but if there’s any change in his condition, please do send for me._ ”

He picked up his bag, leaving the potion and the tumbler on the night stand. Ellery hurried forward, apparently keen for something useful to do, and she escorted him out of the bedroom.

“I am going to go and speak with the Imperial Guard,” Halward announced, and Max noted that the man looked wearier than he’d ever seen him. “We must see if we can get to the bottom of this. Evelyn, you will send for us if there is any change?”

“Of course, my Lord,” Evie promised, wiping her eyes. “I’ll be right here.”

The Magister nodded and both he and his wife swept from the room too, neither of them speaking a word.

“And I believe I am going to go and question the servers,” said Gereon. “It’s highly likely that one of them at least knows something, if not is responsible for this whole travesty. Come, Felix.”

Felix glanced back at the bed, his expression heavy. He caught Maxwell’s eye and the rogue mouthed his thanks silently. The other man nodded.

“I think I’ll join you,” Maevaris added, smiling sadly at Evie and Max. “You should have some privacy,” she told them, knowingly. “Though I will be close by if you need me. I’m going nowhere until I know our dear boy is going to be alright.”

“We’ll let you all know if anything happens, I promise,” Evie assured her.

“I know, my dear,” the blonde murmured. “I know.”

She slipped off the bed then and caught up to the Alexius’, who’d turned and waited for her. The moment all three had left the room, Maxwell was at Dorian’s side, taking his hands in his and squeezing them tight.

“Please, love,” he begged. “Please fight this! I need you to be alright.”

He could feel the sting of tears again and this time he did nothing to stop them. They trickled down his cheeks, hot and full of heartache.

“He’ll make it through this, Maxwell,” Cullen said softly, and Max felt the mattress move as he too sat on the edge of the bed. “He’s strong, you know that. And incredibly stubborn.”

Max gave a watery laugh.

“I know,” he sniffed, wiping at his eyes. “I’ll just never forgive myself if I lose him. This is all my fault.”

“Max,” Evie sighed, reproachfully. “How is any of this your fault? You’ve probably saved his life.”

The rogue frowned at that and he wrenched his gaze away from his lover’s unresponsive face. He found Evie curled around Cullen like a vine, clutching at his shoulders with trembling hands. Her eyes were red and swollen from crying and the Templar was stroking her back, gently shushing her.

“It’s my fault because it’s my glass that he drank from,” Max admitted in a whisper and Evie’s eyes widened with horror. “They were trying to poison me, Evie, not Dorian. I should be lying there unconscious now, not him!”

“Don’t say that!” she sobbed. “It’s not like you did it on purpose! But I don’t understand Max, why would someone be trying to kill you?”

“I don’t know,” he sighed. “Jilted lover? Someone I pissed off on the job? Maybe… Maker’s balls, maybe someone knows about us?”

“That’s not possible,” Cullen frowned. “The only people besides us who know are Felix and the staff. Felix would never betray Dorian and the servants have all signed a contract promising their privacy.”

“I don’t know then,” Max muttered. “Right now, I don’t much care. All I know is, someone hates me enough to slip quillback venom in my drink and now the man I love is lying here, fighting for his life.”

“He’ll be ok, Max,” Evie whimpered. “He has to be!”

“He better be,” the rogue growled. “Because I am not going to stop until I find out who did this.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry. :( Don't hate me.


	38. The Sleeper Awakens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen, Maxwell and Evie spend the night at Dorian's bedside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the slight lateness of this chapter. In fact, I apologise for this chapter in general. It's bugging me but I don't know why. I had a total brain block after the first couple of paragraphs and what came after... *sigh* I just hope it's ok.

Chapter XXXIV

The Sleeper Awakens

 

 

The three of them stayed at Dorian’s side throughout the night. Cullen found himself lost in a mire of mixed emotions. Naturally, he feared for Dorian. He may have only known the man for little over a month but he cared for him; he didn’t want any harm to come to him. Then there was the pain of seeing the woman he loved so utterly distraught. Evie was in bits. She’d barely stopped crying since it had happened and, at one point, they’d had to send for some brandy because she was borderline hysterical. And Maxwell… Maker’s breath, Cullen could barely stand to look at the poor man. He sat at his lover’s side, clutching his golden-skinned hands and whispering to him, begging him to pull through. He didn’t cry half as much as Evie but he didn’t need to – his grief was as thick and tangible in the air as fog.

“What time is it?” he croaked, tearing his gaze away from Dorian for perhaps the first time in an hour.

“It’s a little before dawn,” Cullen answered, glancing at the lightening sky outside.  

Dorian’s condition had stabilised somewhat over the last few hours. He’d been feverish for most of the night, succumbing to fits of thrashing and hyperventilation. Evie and Max had tended to him patiently, mopping his brow, holding him down to stop him from hurting himself. Now he’d been quiet for some time and no-one was sure whether this was a good thing or not.

“Give him a little more of the potion,” Max instructed Evie, who nodded, shuffling heavily across to the other side of the bed. She was clearly exhausted. They all were. It had been a long and harrowing night and it was taking its toll. “Why isn’t he awake?” the rogue whispered. “It’s been hours.”

“He’ll wake when he’s ready,” Cullen assured him. “He evidently needs the rest.”

Maxwell merely sighed. “Maybe I should call the healer in again,” he muttered. “There might be something else we can do.”

Evie inched back over towards their unconscious friend then, the cup of potion in her hand. She coaxed his mouth open and gently poured the viscous liquid down his throat. Her fingers went to his chin to tip it closed when suddenly he spluttered.

“Dorian?” she gasped. “Dorian, can you hear me, sweetie?”

Dorian groaned, coughing, and his eyelids began to flutter. Maxwell almost pounced on him in sudden excitement.

“Maker’s fucking breath,” he breathed. “Dorian, love, please wake up.”

The mage opened his eyes, gazing blearily about the room. Evie gave a little sob of relief and Cullen found himself smiling uncontrollably. Max let out a sound that was half laugh, half whimper and he fell upon the mage, peppering him with kisses.

“Thank the Maker!” he cried. “Fuck, Dorian, you’ve had us so worried!”

Beneath the rogue, Dorian uttered a weak-sounding chuckle. His lover pulled back, cupping his cheek, gazing at him with tears and adoration glistening in his eyes.

“Yes, sorry about that,” the Tevinter rasped. “Hadn’t exactly planned on getting myself poisoned.” He glanced about and he noticed Evie beside him, the tears flowing freely down her face. “Oh amicus, you really shouldn’t cry like that,” he joked, hoarsely. “It does nothing for your face.”

Evie let out a watery laugh and she threw her arms around him in an awkward embrace.

“You’re such an ass,” she whimpered.

“How do you feel, love?” asked Max tenderly, caressing the other man’s face.

“I’ve felt better, admittedly,” Dorian grimaced. He made an attempt to sit up but barely managed to get his head off the pillow before he gave a groan of pain.

“Easy,” Max soothed him. “Just take it slow, gorgeous. You’ve been through a hell of a lot.”

“Is that your way of telling me I look dreadful, amatus?”

“Are you kidding?” the rogue smiled. “You’ve never looked more beautiful.”

He leaned in to press a gentle kiss to his lover’s lips. The sheer adoration between them was palpable and it made Cullen’s stomach do a little flip to see. Frowning, the blonde pushed that particular niggle aside – now was _not_ the time.

“Dorian, how much do you remember of what happened?” he asked.

“Enough,” the mage murmured, darkly. “Someone tried to kill you, amatus. That glass was meant for you.”

“I know,” said Max. “And Maker’s breath, Dorian, if anything had happened to you, I’d have never forgiven myself.”

“It’s not like you knew,” Dorian snorted. “Has… anything come to light?” he asked, turning his head towards the blonde.

“No,” Cullen sighed. “Your former mentor came in a couple of hours back. He said that most of the servers you hired for the party have fled without their pay – they’re obviously terrified they’ll be implicated. Those who have remained apparently know nothing. The Imperial Guard is investigating but…”

“But they don’t expect to find anything,” the Tevinter finished. “Naturally.”

Maxwell took up Dorian’s hand in his own. “Don’t worry,” he growled. “I will get to the bottom of this personally, even if it kills me. I’ve been thinking about it all night. Tell me, did you actually keep that journal Healer Galatea told you to?”

“I did,” Dorian replied. “It’s in the top drawer of the dresser in our room. Why?”

“I want to check something,” Maxwell muttered. “I’ll be back in a moment.” He squeezed Dorian’s hand and slipped off the bed, about to make for the door when he paused. “I should warn you, the moment I set foot outside, everyone will be clamouring to know how you are. I can’t lie to them so… whilst I still have chance…” He leaned down over his lover and pressed a long, lingering kiss to Dorian’s lips. “I’m so glad you’re alright, my love,” he whispered.

“Of course you are,” the mage chuckled, though the sound quickly turned into a hacking cough. “I’m alright,” he croaked, as Maxwell hunched over him in concern. “Truly. Go, amatus, do what you need to do.”

Max gave the man a sceptical once over but he nodded, his lips drawn in a tight line.

“I’ll be right back,” he promised. “Just, prepare yourself for an influx of visitors.”

“Yay, lucky me,” Dorian responded dryly, prompting a laugh from his boyfriend. Max beamed as he left the room, the door clicking softly shut behind him.

“Is there anything you need?” Evie asked of him. “Some water, perhaps?”

“Now that you mention it, I am rather parched,” he admitted. “My mouth feels like a desert.”

Evie nodded and she made to move off the bed. Cullen stopped her.

“Let me,” he offered. “Maker knows I need to do something.”

There was a pitcher of water on the bureau that one of the servants had brought earlier and the blonde filled up a cup, carrying it over to the bed-ridden man. Dorian reached for it with shaking hands but Evie beat him to it, lifting the vessel to his lips for him.

“I’m not an invalid, amicus,” he muttered, though he allowed her to ply him with water all the same, taking careful, tentative sips. “Thank you,” he sighed.

“Are you in pain?” she asked, and she set the vessel down on the night stand. “I can heal you again, if you like.”

Dorian laughed softly and he opened his mouth to respond. However, the bedroom doors opened again and Cullen hastily adopted his servant persona just in time for Halward and Aquinea to stride into the room, closely followed by Felix, Gereon and Maevaris.

“Dorian,” the Pavus patriarch exclaimed. “Thank the Maker!”

“We were so worried about you, sweetheart,” said Mae, her sapphire blue eyes red and weary. Dorian smiled tiredly.

“I’m far too pretty to die, you know that,” he teased.

“How do you feel, Dorian?” Felix asked, perching on the edge of the bed.

“Like I’ve been punched in the stomach by a rampaging Qunari,” the mage sighed. “Not to mention the thumping inside my skull… I am, alive, however and not without gratitude.”

“It’s your brother-in-law you have to thank,” Gereon pointed out. “His quick thinking prevented the poison from doing too much damage.”

“I know,” said Dorian softly and Cullen saw the glimmer in his eyes for what it was: love.

Maxwell slipped back into the room, catching Cullen’s eye, but he said nothing whilst his lover’s well-wishers were still in attendance. Dorian graciously allowed them to comfort themselves with his presence but, after a short while, it grew apparent that he was becoming weary again. Thankfully, at least one of them had the conscientiousness to notice.

“You look as though you could use a little more rest, darling,” Maevaris commented.

“I am a mite exhausted,” the man admitted. “You must be yourselves, waiting up all night.”

“It was worth it to make sure you’re alright,” she smiled. “We’ll let you get your sleep now, though. And go get a little ourselves.”

“Your mother and I will be close by, son, if you require us,” said Halward. Dorian frowned at that – Cullen really didn’t blame him - but he kept his barbs to himself, responding with a curt nod.

“We’re not heading back to Asariel for a few days yet so I’ll be back,” Felix promised. “I haven’t forgotten you owe me a game of Wicked Grace.”

“So eager to lose to me, amicus,” the mage chuckled. “As you wish. And, thank you – all of you. I’m touched by your concern.”

They left then, Maevaris to go home, Felix and Gereon back to their townhouse and the Pavus’ presumably to their room just down the hall. Maxwell resumed his position at his lover’s side and pulled a sheaf of parchment out from inside his jacket.

“You found it I see,” Dorian noted. “What exactly did you want with it, amatus?”

“To confirm a suspicion,” the rogue sighed. “There wasn’t much to go off because the day you started this was the last day that you were ill but I did some thinking and I’ve noticed a pattern.”

“What pattern?” Cullen frowned.

Maxwell’s face contorted in a guilty expression. “It’s all my fault, love,” he whispered. “It wasn’t an allergy at all. You were being systematically poisoned – because of me.”

Dorian bit his lip. “I don’t understand,” he murmured. “How is it your fault?”

“The first two times you were ill had something in common,” Max explained and Cullen listened intently. “Remember that fruit wine I brought us? The one I didn’t like?”

“You think it was the wine?” the former Templar asked.

“I think it might have been laced with something,” admitted Max. “Something intended for me, only I didn’t get sick because I barely had two mouthfuls of the stuff. You, however…”

“Had two glasses that first night,” Dorian recalled. “And finished it off the second time. Alright, say I accept that. What about the third time? I hadn’t touched a drop save that glass at lunch and we all drank from the same bottle.”

“I know,” Max agreed. “But then I remembered those chocolates I got you - the ones I was feeding you in bed before we were due to go to the theatre? I got them from the same market stall that I got the wine…”

“You think the seller assumed both of these things were for you?” asked Cullen. “A rather clumsy way to poison someone, don’t you think?”

“Indeed and the person behind this must have thought so too,” the rogue scowled. “They rather upped their game last night. It was sheer chance that Dorian opted to try that drink before I did. Maker’s breath…”

“Stop torturing yourself, amatus,” the Tevinter ordered. “I don’t blame you. But I am confused. Why would someone be trying so hard to hurt you?”

“I don’t know,” Max growled. “But I will find out. I’m going to go back to that market stall this afternoon and see if I can’t get some answers.”

“I’ll come with you,” Cullen volunteered. “If anything happens… well, you can’t go alone.”

“I don’t like this,” whispered Evie. “What if this person is expecting you? Word could easily have reached them by now.”

“We’ll be in a public,” the blonde assured her, and he sat down on the bed, taking her hands in his own. “And there will be two of us. Whatever happens, I doubt it will be as dire as you’re imagining.”

Evie sighed. “Please be careful,” she begged him. “I’ve almost lost my best friend today already. I don’t want to lose my brother or the love of my life too.”

“We’ll take care, Evie,” Max assured her. “I promise. For now, though, I need some sleep. As do you, love,” he added, caressing Dorian’s face. The Tevinter yawned widely and he regarded his lover with sleepy grey eyes.

“I’ve been unconscious for hours,” he uttered. “I’m not certain how I’m still tired.”

“You’ve been fighting for your life, Dorian,” Evie reminded him. “Is it any wonder you need your rest?”

“Will you stay here?” Dorian asked of Max, hopefully. The rogue shook his head, his expression beleaguered.  

“Your parents are still here, love,” he sighed. “As much as I want nothing more than to fall asleep with you in my arms right now…”

“I know,” the mage mumbled, drowsily. “I understand, amatus. Remind me to turf them out later. I’ve had enough of standing on ceremony.”

Maxwell laughed. “Oh, that I have to see,” he chuckled. “Make sure you wait until I’m up, ok?”

“Naturally,” murmured Dorian. His eyelids were drooping, as though he were fighting to stay awake, and Max placed a swift kiss on his lover’s lips.

“Sleep well, gorgeous,” he bid him. “I’m only a few doors away. Evie’ll look after you, won’t you Sis?”

The redhead nodded, though she looked as weary as Dorian himself. “Of course,” she promised. “Don’t worry, Max. I’ll keep him safe.”

“Right here, you know,” Dorian protested, but the weight of it was lost to the cat-like yawn that swallowed the last word. Max laughed softly and he made for the door, glancing back over his shoulder as he did so.

“Oh get going, you sap,” Evie chuckled playfully. Max made a particularly rude gesture at her before slipping out into the corridor and closing the door quietly behind him.

“You two should get some sleep too,” the Tevinter mumbled, even as he fought to keep slumber from claiming him.

“I’m not going back down the servant’s quarters,” Cullen frowned. “Not after everything that’s happened. I’ll sleep in the chair.”

Evie gave him a sad, longing sort of look that make his heart ache in his chest. She nodded, though, knowing they had little choice. He understood, truly he did – he wanted nothing more than to lay down with her too.

“Soon, Evie,” he promised her. “We can all go back to normal soon. For now, just… sleep there, ok? If anyone comes in, at least I can pretend I was keeping guard over you both. I don’t think anyone would object after what’s occurred.”

He watched as his love sighed but did as she was told, lying down on the bed beside Dorian. There was a good foot of space in between them but still Cullen would have given almost anything to be in Dorian’s place right then. He took up a seat in the winged back chair by the window, watching the redhead curl in on herself in exhaustion. His own eyes were heavy, now that he took the time to think about it, and he wasn’t sorry for the chance at some rest.  

“Sleep well, both of you,” he murmured. “We’ll get to the bottom of this soon enough.”

 

*

 

Cullen awoke a mere handful of hours later with a numb backside and a crick in his neck. Groaning, he forced himself to stand, relishing the way his joints popped pleasantly back into place. He was still tired but, all things considered, a few hours’ sleep was better than no sleep at all. He was no stranger to insufficient rest, the lyrium withdrawal plaguing him at night now more often than during the day; he knew how to manage.

He was surprised to see Dorian sitting up in bed, his legs swung out of the edge of the mattress. He looked distinctly uncomfortable and Cullen wasted no time in crossing the room to his side.

“Are you alright?” he asked, frowning in concern. “You’re not in pain, are you?”

He glanced at the bed, noting their resident healer was still sound asleep. Dorian chuckled weakly.

“Not as such, no,” he muttered. “I… Maker’s breath, this is embarrassing… it seems I can’t stand of my own accord.”

Cullen chuckled. “Good thing I’m here then,” he smiled. “What do you need? I’ll get it for you.”

“You… can’t,” Dorian sighed, and he raised a hand to his face, apparently flustered.

“I don’t mind, Dorian,” the blonde assured him. “After everything you’ve been through, I’m happy to help.”

“I need to piss,” said the mage bluntly. Cullen felt his cheeks flush and he let out an uncomfortable laugh.

“Yes, ok, that I can’t bring you,” he muttered, and Dorian fixed him with an amused smirk. “I can… I can help you to the washroom, though. If you want. I won’t look, I promise.”

Cullen was aware that he was mumbling, his cheeks glowing hotter and pinker with every word that tumbled out of his mouth. Dorian chuckled, though he thankfully kept his teasing to himself for once.

“That would be appreciated, thank you,” he sighed. Cullen offered the mage his hand and he hoisted him to his feet, noting how unsteady he was on his legs. The blonde’s arm slipped around the darker man’s shoulder and they began to move together towards the adjoining room.

“How are you feeling now?” asked Cullen, softly.

“Still rather like I’ve been beaten,” Dorian admitted. “And my insides feel like lead.”

“I can’t say I’m surprised,” the blonde muttered. “We’ll get Evie to heal you again when she wakes up. She’ll be happy to help.”

“I get the impression she’s already expended enough of her magic on me recently,” Dorian muttered, and he sounded a little guilty, much to Cullen’s surprise.

“She was scared for you, Dorian,” the former Templar explained. “We all were. I think she’d have happily given up her magic for good if it meant you got to live.”

Dorian huffed softly and when Cullen turned to look at him, he was surprised by the other man’s bashful smile. “Maker, what a bunch of saps you all are,” he accused, though Cullen could see the warmth of affection in his flint-coloured eyes.

When they reached the washroom, Cullen nudged the door carefully open with his foot. He and his charge hobbled across the tiled floor to the privy, where Cullen promptly turned his back, supporting the other man with an arm around his waist.

“Can you… er…manage?” he asked, feeling his cheeks flame at the unspoken offer in his words. Maker, if the man said anything but yes, he felt certain he might explode. Fortunately, Dorian seemed to have it all under control from there.

“Oh, I can handle it, I’m sure,” he chuckled. The sound promptly became a groan of relief and Cullen stared pointedly in the opposite direction. He was very aware of his arm around Dorian’s bare waist, of his fingers curled in the crook above the other man’s narrow hips. It flustered him beyond words. “There, all done,” the mage, after several moments. “Thank you, for this,” he sighed and, Maker help him, Cullen turned his head then, finding they were almost nose to nose. “I can’t imagine I smell particularly pleasant after last night.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, you smell amazing,” Cullen blurted, without even thinking, and he genuinely thought his face might combust with embarrassment. Dorian merely laughed.

“I find that hard to believe,” he smirked, in a voice that did the strangest things to Cullen’s stomach. “Though I appreciate your flattery.”

He smiled and Cullen smiled back, his eyes dropping to the mage’s unfairly attractive mouth. He recalled tasting that mouth, feeling it moving with ardour against his own and… Maker, he had to stop. He was delirious.

“We should get you back to bed,” he whispered. “Evie won’t be pleased if she wakes up and finds you wandering around when you should be resting.”

“So eager to get me between the sheets, my dear Commander,” Dorian teased, with a bounce of his eyebrows, and it was such a return to form that Cullen snorted with laughter.

“Come on, idiot mage,” he snickered. “Before you get us both into trouble.”

“Perish the thought,” Dorian purred, though he moved with Cullen all the same, the pair of them shuffling their way back towards the bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry not sorry. I couldn't resist tacking a little bit of Cullrian tension on there at the bottom. *shrugs* I'm not saying it's going anywhere it's just fun to mess with them.


	39. Alone At Last

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Max and Cullen investigate the poisoning and Dorian's parents finally get the hint.

Chapter XXXV

Alone At Last

 

 

The trip to the market, unfortunately, turned out to be a dead end.

“He’s fucking gone!” Maxwell snarled, as he stormed into the master bedroom, a whirlwind of frustration. “The bastard must have expected we were coming. He’s packed up and fucked off!”

Cullen followed close behind, looking more weary than anything.

“I asked around, to see if any of the other vendors might have seen anything,” he explained to Dorian, shutting the door behind them. “Apparently, he was there one day and just gone the next. No one seems to know very much about him.”

Dorian merely shrugged. He hadn’t expected anything different, if he were to be honest. Even a foolish would-be poisoner would know better than to stick around after being discovered and the story of Altus Pavus’s narrow escape was likely all over the city by now. He’d never truly anticipated anything would come of their inquiry.

“I doubt the man was truly behind these attacks, anyway,” said Dorian, reassuringly. “He was probably working as a middleman for someone else.”

He opened his arms invitingly and his amatus was quick to bury his head in Dorian’s bare chest. “Mmm, you smell good,” he sighed, his voice reverberating against the mage’s skin. “Am I to assume you’ve been lounging in the bath whilst we were out hunting the bastard who did this to you?”

“At your sister’s insistence,” Dorian chuckled. “Though, I confess, I needed little coaxing.”

“And where is dearest Evelyn?” asked Max, as he pulled away, sitting on the bed at Dorian’s feet.

“Down in the kitchens, requisitioning me some food,” the mage replied. “She’s been gone some time, actually. I’m surprised she’s not back yet.” Cullen’s blonde brows knitted into a little frown of concern and Dorian had to laugh. “I’m sure she’s fine, my dear Knight-Commander,” he grinned. “Though I should tell you, she seems a little tightly wound. I think she could benefit from a little of your attention, once we have our privacy back.” He winked and the way Cullen flushed was deliciously satisfying. He hadn’t forgotten their brief moment earlier. Whatever epiphany the man was going through at the moment, the Tevinter couldn’t deny he was enjoying it; the sexual tension alone was delightful.

The bedroom door opened again then and they all glanced up to see Evie padding into the room, carrying a laden tray.

“Oh, you’re back!” she beamed, as she made her way over to the bed. She paused to press a kiss to Cullen’s lips before setting the tray down on the nightstand. “Here,” she murmured, handing Dorian a steaming bowl of soup. “I’ve made it from scratch. I thought something light would be best.”

“Thank you,” Dorian smiled gratefully. The soup smelled delicious. He was surprised how hungry he was, after all that had happened. His stomach growled and he pulled the bowl eagerly towards him.

“So what happened?” Evie asked, of the other two men. “Did you manage to speak to this merchant?”

“He wasn’t there,” Cullen replied, with a sigh. “All we found was an empty stall and a cold trail. No one could tell us anything about him.”

“So that’s it?” frowned Evie, as Dorian took a tentative spoonful of soup. “We’ve no way of knowing who did this?”

“I’m not giving up just yet,” Max promised. “I’m going to follow up with the list of servers, see if we can’t discern anything from one of them. Whoever did this will not get away with it.”

His green eyes flashed with determination and Dorian couldn’t help but feel a little rush of adoration for his lover. He’d never admit it but he rather liked seeing Max so growly and protective; it was very endearing and more than a bit sexy.

“How’s the soup, amicus?” Evie asked, perching on the edge of the mattress. She reached out a hand to press against his forehead, checking his temperature for what must have been the thirtieth time that afternoon. She was fussing, even more tactile with her affections than usual, and Dorian thought he knew why; she was still afraid for him. Touching really, he supposed, if a little exasperating. Still, he couldn’t begrudge her.

“It’s delightful,” he praised. “You spoil me.”

“After last night, I’m just pleased you’re still here to be spoiled,” she murmured. The warmth in her eyes, the affection lacing her words, was so utterly poignant. Dorian reached out with his free hand, taking hers and squeezing it affectionately. Maxwell laughed.

“Do you want that we two should leave you alone?” he teased. “I’m sure Commander Sexy and I can find something to do if you want a bit of privacy.”

“No need, amatus,” Dorian shot back with a smirk, even as Cullen spluttered with embarrassment. “We’re well spent – hence the bath. This is just afterglow.”

Max grinned and he shuffled up the bed to sit by Dorian’s side. Had he not been holding a hot bowl of soup, the mage suspected he might have been subjected to a very thorough kiss, which, even in his delicate state, he wouldn’t have minded. Perhaps later, he thought.

The four of them sat together on the bed whilst Dorian partook of his meal. Cullen took them all by surprise when he lifted the sheets and pulled Dorian’s feet into his lap, massaging them with unexpected tenderness. Astounded, Dorian glanced silently at Evie, who was biting her lip, her green eyes sparkling with glee. Still, none of them said a word and the Tevinter was more than happy to accept the fuss without complaint.

“Is this…ok?” the blonde asked, and the gentle blush that lit his cheeks was simply delightful.

“It’s heavenly,” Dorian groaned. “What a remarkably light touch you have, Commander!”

Cullen smiled and he shook his head, continuing in his task.

Dorian only managed half of the bowl of soup before he had to stop. The food was delicious and, Maker, he was so very hungry. However, even the light broth sat in his stomach like a stone and he simply couldn’t continue.

“I can’t, forgive me,” he sighed, dropping the spoon back in the bowl. Evie gave him a sympathetic smile and she made to take it away. Maxwell beat her to it.

“You don’t mind, do you, love?” he grinned. “I’m ravenous.”

“Be my guest,” Dorian replied with a fond smile.

“Are you alright?” asked Evie, as Max took up the discarded spoon and began to polish off Dorian’s lunch with gusto. It was a question the mage was not entirely sure how to answer. Being almost fatally poisoned did not exactly lend itself to one’s wellbeing. His insides were heavy, currently twisting in discomfort at the sudden addition of food. He’d had a constant headache since waking up that morning and his head swam if he tried to move too quickly.

“I’m as well as can be expected,” he sighed, after a moment. “Though I fear eating might have been a mistake, in hindsight.”

“I’m sorry-” Evie began but Dorian held up his hand to stop her.

“Don’t apologise,” he insisted. “You only did as I asked.”

“Do you think a healing spell will help?” she asked, timidly.

“I’m not opposed to you trying. Just a moment…” Grunting with effort, Dorian forced himself to sit up off the pillows, wriggling his bottom forward a few inches. “Here,” he murmured. “Sit behind me.”

Evie did as she was asked and slipped in behind him just in time for Dorian to flop back against her, groaning. The room spun from the sudden movement and Dorian had to close his eyes to allow his head to right itself.

“Mmm, this _is_ getting cosy,” purred Max. “Your parents are still here, right?”

“The door’s locked,” Evie laughed, as she began to summon her healing magic. Dorian felt the warmth of it skittering over his skin. Evie’s hands followed and he was pleased that the spell did indeed take some of the bite out of the pain. “Is that better?” Evie wondered.

“It’s certainly helping,” Dorian sighed, and he opened his eyes, feeling the world settle at last.

“You know, you look every bit the stereotypical ‘decadent Vint’ right now,” his amatus grinned. “If I thought you were up to it, I might have to climb on top and get in on this little threeway.”

“Stop riling up my patient, you,” scolded Evie, even as Dorian chuckled. “And kindly keep your incestuous thoughts to yourself.”

“It’s a big bed, sister dearest. I won’t touch if you won’t.” Max winked and even Cullen groaned that time.

“Maker’s breath man, do you have no boundaries?” he murmured, pulling a revolted face.

“Oh no,” Dorian smiled. “It’s one of the many reasons I adore him so.”

Cullen muttered something that sounded rather like ‘you deserve each other’ and Dorian laughed heartily. He instantly regretted it, the pain in his stomach spiking from ‘uncomfortable’ to ‘eye-watering’.

“Take it easy,” Evie soothed him, her spell growing warmer as she intensified it. “I’ve got you.”

“I think I know where this is going,” he grumbled. “Do we perchance have a pail or something nearby?”

Max sat up at that, his face crumpling in concern. “Think you’re going to be sick, love?” he asked, and he cupped Dorian’s cheek in his hand. “Sure you’re not just gassy? You know how you get when you skip meals.”

“Fasta vass, Max, I know what indigestion feels like!” Dorian groaned. His stomach was spasming with pain, churning unpleasantly at the heavy contents within. “Will you find me something to throw up in, quickly, before I’m forced to so do on you!” Max nodded silently, his eyes wide, and Dorian might have felt guilty for snapping if it wasn’t for the prickle of bile at the back of his throat. Urgently, he snatched up the now empty soup bowl and tossed the spoon aside just as the retching started. He doubled over and Evie’s hands abandoned their attempts at healing to rub his back.

“Well, if I ever had had any doubts you were being poisoned before, they’re gone now,” she murmured sadly.

Dorian whimpered, a highly undignified noise he would later deny, if anyone dared to mention it. He heaved again, bile burning his throat and making his eyes water.

“I’ll get him something to drink,” he heard Cullen say and he felt the mattress shift at his feet, felt the calloused hands on his feet recede. His stomach ached viciously and the irrepressible urge to vomit just kept coming, despite the fact that his belly had been emptied on the first heave. Involuntary tears streamed down his face and he was gasping for air by the time it finally stopped.

“It’s alright, love,” Maxwell whispered, stroking his thigh. “You obviously weren’t ready for food yet, is all.”

Dorian snorted as he bent over the bowl, drawing in great, greedy gulps of air. There was a rap at the door then and he groaned loudly. Max’s hand retreated at once.

“Wonderful timing, as usual,” he panted, glancing slightly up to see Cullen responding to the knocking. The blonde unlocked and opened the door and it was just Dorian’s luck that his parents sauntered in, frowning at the state of him.

“What is this?” his father muttered. “You’re unwell?”

“Apparently the symptoms of poisoning don’t just magically disappear,” the mage snapped. “Fancy that!”

Halward’s face twisted in annoyance but he wisely refrained from saying anything.

“Your mother and I just came to inform you that we are leaving, as promised,” he said, loftily. “It is unwise for us to linger in the city, after all that has happened. It may invite more trouble, for yourself and for us.”

“For once, we agree on something,” Dorian muttered. He glanced to his mother, who was regarding him with the strangest expression on her face, one he couldn’t begin to (nor did he care to) decipher.

“Will you be alright?” Halward asked. “The healer has left but we can send for another, if necessary.”

“Evelyn has it covered, thank you,” replied Dorian, shortly. “What of the Guard and their investigation? Do you wish me to keep you informed?”

“I have already requested they write me with any information,” his father nodded. “We will get to the bottom of this, I’m sure.”

“I would have that guard of yours checking all your meals, from now on,” Aquinea advised curtly, her dark eyes flickering to where Cullen stood by the door. “You must be cautious.”

“I will take every possible precaution,” sighed Dorian, rolling his eyes. “Maker forbid anything happens to me before I sire you an heir.”

“Dorian,” his mother frowned but the mage threw up a hand to silence her.

“Will you just go already?” he snapped. “I’ve had a trying day and I would like some rest. I’m sure you have important work to be getting back to, anyway. Father’s wine collection won’t drink itself.”

Aquinea’s nostrils flared. Her eyes narrowed and Dorian half-expected her to slap him – it wouldn’t have been the first time. However, she simply turned on her heel, marching for the door.

“Come, Halward!” she snarled. “Our son has made it quite clear he doesn’t want us here.”

Halward Pavus sighed through his nose and he cast his son one last doleful look before following his wife. Dorian almost felt bad for the man, having to put up with her all the way back to Qarinus. Then he recalled this was his father, the same man who’d sooner see his son miserable than risk the precious family name. He smirked; they deserved each other.

Once the door was closed and locked behind them, Dorian sank back against Evie’s chest with a groan. His lover removed the bespoiled bowl, setting it aside, and perched on the bed beside him.

“Well, at least we’ll be able to sleep in our own beds tonight,” he noted, cheerfully. “I’ve missed having you to warm the sheets, even if you do snore.”

Dorian laughed weakly, clutching his middle against the inevitable ache. “Don’t, please,” he moaned. “It hurts.”

Evie’s hands snaked around his waist and she summoned her magic again, soothing his pain.

“Don’t worry,” she assured him. “You’ll be as good as new again before you know it. You’ll just have to take it easy for the next few days, get your strength back.”

“If you three continue to fuss over me like this, I’ll stay in bed as long as you like,” the mage sighed. Maxwell grinned impishly.

“I’m sure we could make it worth your while, love,” he purred, waggling his eyebrows.

Dorian merely groaned.

 

*

 

If he was going to be confined to a bed, Dorian was at least glad it was his own. He lay propped up on his pillows, a cup of soothing peppermint tea warming his hands. Max lounged beside him, his head resting on Dorian’s shoulders and his lips tantalisingly close to his skin. In spite of his earlier illness, in spite of everything, he was not immune to his lover’s proximity. Dorian bit his lip and shifted his hips beneath the sheets.

“You’re teasing, amatus,” he chided, setting his teacup down on the nightstand. Maxwell laughed softly, pressing a kiss to the nape of Dorian’s neck.

“Forgive me, love,” he smiled. “I’m not trying to rile you up. Just enjoying your company, is all.”

“Can’t say I blame you,” Dorian smirked. “Though for what it’s worth, I have no objections to being riled up, as long as you’re willing to follow through on your teasing.”

The mage turned his head and he caught the rogue by surprise, claiming his lips in a lazy, sensual kiss. Something stirred in the pit of his belly, something other than hunger or nausea. He moaned softly into Max’s mouth and was delighted when he felt his lover’s tongue move alongside his own.

“Dorian,” the Marcher sighed, tearing himself away. “Do you really want to do this now? You should be resting, love, not… well, this.”

“I’m sure I can manage a quick tumble, amatus,” he chuckled. “Providing you’re gentle.”

Maxwell merely raised his brows and Dorian huffed out a sigh.

“Don’t treat me like a china doll, Max,” he muttered. “You know I can’t stand that. Besides… Evie and I made something of an agreement earlier and I intend to make good on it.”

“Oh?” The rogue sat back then, his eyebrows climbing higher towards his hairline. “So you’ve made some sort of deal with my sister that involves sex? This I have to hear.”

Dorian snorted, shaking his head. “Not like that, amatus,” he chuckled. “We merely agreed that we would… give this baby business a whirl, sooner rather than later. Keep my parents from bothering us again.”

Maxwell blinked. “Oh!” he exclaimed. “Yeah, I guess that’s a good point. But does it really have to be tonight, Dorian? You’re exhausted.”

“I don’t think it will take much effort on my part,” the Tevinter laughed. “Or… on your part, if you’d like to assist me.”

He gave his lover his most tempting smile and was pleased when the other man bit his lip, his emerald eyes sparkling with promise.

“Well, I can’t have you over-exerting yourself,” he grinned. “What kind of terrible boyfriend would I be if I did that?”

The mage smirked, secretly pleased. He could do it without Max, of course, but he saw no reason not to have a little fun whilst he was at it. Maxwell slipped his arms around Dorian’s neck and the two kissed again, deep and unhurried. The feel of his lover’s body pressed against his own warmed his blood and he moaned with sudden and mounting need.

“How do you want this to happen, love?” Max breathed, pulling away and resting their foreheads together. “Anything you’re not feeling up for?”

“As long as you don’t lie me on my stomach, amatus, I should be fine.”

Dorian’s breath was coming quicker already and he could feel himself growing hard within his light, linen trousers.

“Lie back on the pillows, then,” the rogue smirked, his eyes flashing. “And finish that tea, won’t you? We’re going to need the cup.”

He licked his lips and Dorian felt the gesture go straight to his cock. Eager, he leaned back against the pillows, watching Maxwell crawl up the bed on his hands and knees. The way his arse wiggled as he moved was beyond delicious and Dorian rather lamented that he wouldn’t get to fuck him that night. It had been too long since he’d had the gorgeous Southerner on all fours.

“Here,” Max smiled sensually and he picked up the teacup off the nightstand, handing it to Dorian. “Every last drop,” he winked. “I plan on doing a very thorough job.”

“Maker’s breath,” the mage groaned. He lifted the cup to his lips, downing the lukewarm liquid within in one long draught. “There,” he smirked, and he set it down on the bed beside him. “Do your worst, amatus.”

Max grinned. “Oh, I intend to,” he purred, as he began to untie the drawstring of Dorian’s waistband. “Tell me,” he asked, conversationally. “Do you think your cum will be any less potent if I’ve had it in my mouth?”

Dorian blinked, feeling a rush of heady desire at the thought of his lover’s lips around him. “I honestly don’t know,” he admitted, softly. Maxwell shrugged.

“Perhaps best not to risk it,” he sighed. “Oh well. You’ll just have to tell me when you’re about to pop.” He gave Dorian a devilish wink then before turning his attention to his clothing. Dorian assisted, lifting his hips off the bed, and Max slid his pants over his thighs and off. A greedy expression darkened his features as he eyed Dorian’s half-hard prick. “Do you know,” he murmured, “before all that bollocks with the poison the other night… I was so sorely tempted to rub you off under that table.” His fingers wrapped lightly around Dorian’s length, teasing, feeling it harden fully in his hand. The mage tossed back his head with a groan. “How do you think you’d have managed?” Max went on. “Reckon you could keep a straight face whilst I was stroking your cock? Think you could have kept up that witty repartee?”

Dorian flexed his hips, urging his lover onwards. “Fasta vass, Max,” he gasped. “You tell me this now?”

“Yes, well, things rather took a turn for the worse, didn’t they?” the rogue sighed. “Still, it’s an interesting idea.” He tightened his hold on Dorian a little, starting to move his hand up and down. “Maybe I should try it next time we’re all at dinner,” he mused and he added a little twist that made Dorian buck with delight. “Does that turn you on, love? Want me to wank you off under the table whilst we’re having dinner with our friends?”

“Venhedis, yes,” the Tevinter sighed. He knew it shouldn’t but the idea of Max touching him so brazenly in company was incredibly arousing, almost as much as the hand that was now stroking him vigorously, adding little sparks of pleasure to the fire in his belly.

“You’re so filthy, Dorian,” Max chuckled, admiringly. “It’s one of the many things I love about you.” He ceased his chatter then, lowering his head towards Dorian’s crotch. His long, pink tongue snaked out from betwixt his lips and he licked a steady line up the underside of his length. Dorian gasped, fingers clutching at the sheets, hips lifting to chase the contact. He felt his lover chuckle, felt the gentle press of his lips at the base of his cock. Then his mind went blissfully blank as the rogue drew one of his balls lovingly into his mouth.

“Max!” he shouted, feeling his body flame. “Fuck!”

“You’re so sensitive there,” his lover cooed, once he’d released him. The hand on Dorian’s erection stilled and he began lapping greedily at the other testicle. “Think you could cum like this?” he murmured, sucking on the delicate sac.

“You know I can’t,” Dorian gasped. “Ah! Max, you insufferable fucking tease, touch me!”

“I am touching you, darling,” the Marcher replied, innocently. He blew on the wet skin then, making Dorian hiss with torturous delight. Maxwell chuckled and he moved on to press a line of kisses up his lover’s now rigid length. “So beautiful,” he admired. “You’ve an incredible cock, you know that? I wasn’t kidding when I said I could suck it all day long.”

“You’re not sucking it now,” the mage growled. “A mistake I think you should rectify immediately.”

Max grinned, the sparkle in his eyes every bit as arousing as the kisses he was pressing to Dorian’s erection. “I quite agree,” he purred and, just like that, he hollowed his cheeks and sucked Dorian right to the back of his throat. Dorian let out a cry that bordered on a scream and he instinctively tried to buck into his lover’s mouth. Max didn’t deny him. On the contrary, he moaned and his hands gripped Dorian’s waist tightly. The mage took this as permission. He fisted a hand in his lover’s hair and he began to fuck Max’s mouth greedily. The rogue moaned around him, squeezing his waist, flickering his tongue as best he could against the underside of Dorian’s dick. Maker, he felt incredible. If hadn’t known his lover enjoyed this sort of treatment, he’d have probably felt guilty for using him like a back alley whore. But he knew the rogue adored it – as if his noise wasn’t a giveaway – and he wasn’t about to turn down such a delicious opportunity. He snapped his hips up, driving deep into the other’s mouth. Maker it was so hot, so incredibly wet and tight…

“You feel so good, Max,” he praised, breathlessly. “So fucking good.”

Max answered with a groan and a flutter of tongue and one of his hands snaked between Dorian’s legs, rubbing the ever so sensitive spot behind his scrotum. Dorian cried out, feeling the fire of his pleasure burn that little bit brighter.

“I’m getting close,” he panted. “Be ready, amatus.”

His lover hummed, long and low; Dorian almost sobbed.

“Oh, Maker,” he whimpered. “Sweet, fucking Maker, yes! Oh, that’s it, my love…oh… get the cup…”

Dorian felt Max’s head pull back and he released his hair, bemoaning the loss of sensation. He didn’t have to wait long, though. His lover fisted his cock, pumping vigorously. Something cold and hard touched his length just beneath the head but he could barely summon the will to pay it any mind. A thumb swiped roughly over the leaking tip and he came with a shuddering gasp, back arching against wave after wave of pleasure.

“That’s it, gorgeous,” Max praised. “Come nice and hard, for me. Yeah, just like that.”

Dorian flopped back onto the pillow with a helpless moan, delighting in the lingering tremors of pleasure that wracked him. The cold rim of the teacup receded and he blinked up, panting, at his amatus. Maxwell was holding the cup in one hand, examining the contents with a sly smile curling his lips.

“Don’t you dare, Maxwell Trevelyan,” he scolded. “I’m not sure I’ve got another one in me tonight.”

Max chuckled, his eyes flashing, but he set the cup aside all he same.

“As you wish,” he grinned. “Though I get to suck you in the morning. And that load is all for me, yes?”

Dorian laughed breathlessly. “If you insist, you demon. If you insist.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eeek. Every time I come back to this site, I'm always shocked by the views this story has had! Thank you all so much. You are wonderful humans! <3 
> 
> I'm going to be taking a little break from this story - not long, a week at the most (I hope!). It's about to turn a corner and I just need some time where I'm not writing to make sure all my notes are in order and that everything is where it should be. I may, if I've time, add a drabble or two to the extended cut (I really want to write out that scene with Max and Dorian at Carnevale) but we'll have to see. 
> 
> Thank you all so much for reading!! When I resume, it will be with some Evie x Cullen yumminess. Oh, and Cully Wully admits he has a thing for dudes too. Especially, pretty mustached dudes.


	40. Make Me an Heir

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen helps Evie through the process of creating the next generation of Pavuses; Evie helps Dorian back on his feet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here we are again! Thank you all so much for your patience! I really appreciate it. ^_^ I've got some seriously fun stuff planned for the next few chapters. Can't wait to get on with it!! 
> 
> Ok, a little warning. This chapter begins with what I can only describe as artificial insemination. It's not overtly graphic but it is pretty uncomfortable (I actually find it more nauseating to write than the idea of Evie and Dorian getting it on but I'm a bit squeamish). If this makes your stomach churn, please, please don't read on. Perhaps best to skip to the first break - marked by a '*' - as it's all over after then. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy. The nice bits, at least lol.

XXXVI

Make Me an Heir

 

 

Evie gasped, her fingers clawing at the sheets, eyes clamping shut as another wave of pleasure rocked her to her core.

“Cullen,” she whimpered. “Maker, I’m so close!”

“Me too, my love,” the blonde panted, pressing a messy kiss to her lips. Evie didn’t mind in the slightest. She arched into the kiss and keened as his cock brushed against that sweet spot deep inside of her. She was right on the cusp; it wouldn’t take much to tip her over. Greedy, she pushed back against him, rolling her hips to match his languid, sensual pace. Cullen’s breath caught in his throat and his strangled utter of “Fuuuck!” made her pussy clench eagerly around him. The former Templar pulled out just in time. With one hand, he teased Evie’s clit and the other pumped his erection as he came hard all over Evie’s belly. It was the feel of his hot seed spattering her stomach, the look of utter ecstasy on his face, that truly did it for her. She came with a cry, her back arching and body trembling as her orgasm tore through her.

It was a while before she could summon the will to move again. Her eyes fluttered open and she beamed to see her lover lying on his side next to her, cheeks flushed and amber eyes glowing with warmth

“Was that alright?” he asked, softly. “I… we’ve never actually done that before.”

Evie gave a breathless chuckle and she willed one of her hands to her stomach, where Cullen’s release was pooling in her navel. Smirking, she scooped some up on the tip of her finger, holding the blonde’s gaze as she raised it to her lips and sucked the digit clean. Cullen groaned and he bit down on his lip.

“Maker’s breath, Evie,” he sighed. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

“A resounding yes, darling,” she smiled, relishing his salty taste on her tongue. “If you can’t finish in me, I definitely want it on me.”

The blonde grinned. He shifted and suddenly he was hovering over her, warm hands cupping her cheek, lips claiming hers in a lazy kiss. He parted her thighs with his knee and Evie whimpered to feel him nudging her over-sensitised sex.

“You have quite the appetite this evening, my love,” she gasped. “Where has this come from?”

“We haven’t made love since before I slipped that ring on your finger,” he reminded her, with a devilish smirk. “Is it any wonder?”

Evie blinked – had it truly been that long? She supposed it had.  Their last chance for intimacy had been the night of Satinalia but Cullen had fallen asleep before they’d ever gotten chance. Before that… well, Cullen didn’t like to touch her when she was bleeding. Not because it bothered him but because he worried for her comfort. Maker, that meant it had been almost a fortnight.

“You’re right,” she murmured, and she let a sunny smile spread across her face. “I suppose we have time to make up for.”

Cullen hummed with pleasure and he leaned in for another kiss. A knock at the door made him pause, however, and he glanced up, brows contracting in a slight frown.

“You don’t suppose that’s…?” His playful demeanour vanished just like that and he seemed suddenly nervous. “Wait there,” he murmured. “I’ll go.” The blonde pulled one of the golden silk sheets off the bed and he wrapped it around his waist like a towel. He pulled another attentively up over Evie’s waist – her hair was mercifully long enough to cover her breasts – then padded over to the door. It was pulled open to reveal Maxwell standing upon the threshold. Her brother’s eyes raked approvingly up and down Cullen’s body and, even at such a distance, Evie could see her lover blushing.

“Maker’s breath, don’t you look delicious,” Max grinned. “Baby sister, I’ve said it before, but you are a lucky girl.”

“Something you need?” Cullen muttered, clearly uneasy. Maxwell smirked and he handed Cullen a teacup and the glass syringe he’d procured a little while back.

“I’ve a very special delivery for you,” the rogue winked. “Should still be warm.”

Cullen groaned, accepting the items with obvious mortification.

“Is Dorian alright?” Evie asked from the bed. “I did tell him it didn’t have to be tonight but he was quite insistent.”

Max chuckled. “Oh, he’s just peachy,” he said, with a leer. Evie rolled his eyes.

“Yes, well, thank you,” she sighed. “Perhaps you should get back to him, before he misses you. We’ve things to be getting on with.”

“Oh yes you have,” laughed Max. He nodded at Cullen, his green eyes dancing with mischief. “Have fun with than,” he winked. “I was going to drink it myself but-”

“Oh, get out!” Evie groaned. Cullen shut the door firmly and they could hear Maxwell laughing as he disappeared off down the corridor, undoubtedly back to his own bedroom. Cullen turned back to the bed and Evie could see he was eyeing the contents of the cup with obvious discomfort.

“Maker’s breath,” he muttered, as he wandered back over to the bed. He lost his sheet on the way but he didn’t seem to notice, sitting down on the mattress beside Evie. “A teacup,” he sighed. “Really?”

“They probably just used whatever was on hand,” Evie murmured. The teacup didn’t bother her so much as what she knew was inside it. She and Dorian were friends – close friends, even – but Maker, she had her limits and handling his intimate bodily fluids was definitely one of them.

“Shall I…?” asked Cullen, uncertainly. Evie groaned and she threw an arm across her face.

“Let’s just get it over with, please,” she whispered. “I don’t want to overthink this.”

“Nor I, my love,” the blonde murmured. She felt him move to the end of the bed then and she parted her legs, placing her feet flat on the mattress. For a brief moment, there was nothing and then she felt her lover’s hand rest gently on the top of her thigh. “Are you ready, sweetheart?” he asked. His voice was so achingly tender that Evie removed her arm to look at him. His expression made her chest ache, sad and yet full of adoration; he must have been hating it too.

“I’m ready,” she nodded. Cullen leaned over her, keeping one hand reassuringly at the top of her thigh. Evie felt something cold and unnaturally hard at her entrance and she whimpered.

“Forgive me,” Cullen uttered softly. She felt the glass body of the syringe penetrate her then and her whole body tensed, her hands balling into fists. “Relax, love,” the blonde urged her. “It’ll come right out if you’re clenching. Relax…”

Evie did her best to do as he asked. She took several deep, slow breaths, feeling her muscles slowly un-tense. She bit her lip and tried not to clench as Cullen pushed in the plunger. The sound it made caused her stomach to turn.

“There we go,” he praised her. “All done.”

He leaned up to the head of the bed, making the mattress wobble with the motion. Evie frowned, confused, until she saw him sit back down with a pillow in his hands.

“I… I’ve heard it said that you should try and keep it in… about a half hour or so,” He mumbled, flushing. “It increases the chance of you getting pregnant. Just… lift your hips?”

The redhead did as she was asked and Cullen peeled back the sheet to wedge the pillow underneath her bottom.

“I know it’s not incredibly dignified, my love,” he murmured. “But if it means this happens sooner rather than later, it will be worth it.”

He covered her back up lovingly and hovered over her to press a tender kiss to her forehead. Maker he was being so sweet, so accepting of the whole thing – how was it not tearing him up? Evie almost felt violated. Her skin was crawling and the urge to jump in a scalding hot bath and scrub herself clean was damn near irrepressible. It made her feel guilty. Dorian was her dearest friend and she was comfortable with him in so many ways. This, though? This was just bizarre and she couldn’t help the tears began to leak from the corners of her eyes.

“Evie!” Cullen gasped, and he curled up beside her, wrapping his arms around her as best he could. “Maker, please don’t cry. It breaks my heart.”

“I’m sorry,” she whimpered, wiping at her eyes. “I’m being pathetic. This is just… so, so not how I pictured this ever happening.” She glanced to her lover, taking in the pained expression on his beautiful face. “Maker, Cullen, what if this works?” she whispered. “How do I tell my future child that Mother and Father are in love but not with each other? That they couldn’t even stand the thought of touching each other? That their mother desperately wishes they were someone else’s? Because I don’t think I could lie about something like that!”

She sobbed then, burying her face in her hands. Cullen hushed her, pressing himself tightly against her and rocking her gently.

“I know nothing about this is conventional,” he reasoned. “And I’m not going to pretend I’m entirely happy about it either because I’m not. But Evie, if you do get with child, then that baby will be the most treasured infant in all of Thedas. I don’t think any one of us is petty enough to resent an innocent child the circumstances of their birth. I will love any child of yours because they are part of you. And I’m sure Max will feel exactly the same way about any child of Dorian’s. They will be adored from every angle.”

Evie laughed weakly, trying to reign in her tears. “You always know just what to say,” she smiled.

“We both know that’s not true,” Cullen chuckled, and he wiped the moisture from her cheeks with his thumb. “My mouth has a long-standing relationship with my foot.”

“Your mouth is more talented than you give it credit for,” she beamed. Cullen’s lips twitched and he snickered like a schoolboy. “Maker, that’s not what I meant,” she groaned. “Though… that’s not untrue, either.”

Cullen flushed with pleasure, his lips pulling back in a dazzling smile. “So charming, my Lady,” he teased, and he took her hand, raising it up to kiss it like the gentleman he was. “At any rate, you’re smiling again – that’s all I wanted. Now, how about I go and draw you a bath for when we’re done here?”

“Only if you join me, darling,” Evie replied, adoringly.

 

*

 

Over the next few days, the four of them made sure to repeat their baby-making process nightly to optimise its chances of success. It wasn’t quite as bad as the first time, though Evie couldn’t quite shake off the feeling of guilt and shame as she lay there with that cursed pillow under her hips. Cullen was her anchor, holding her hand, stroking her hair and talking to her about anything he could think of to distract her from her thoughts. Then, just like that first time, he would draw her a bath and join her in the hot, scented water, gently sponging her clean. Far from driving a wedge between them, as she had feared, Evie found it was only bringing them closer.

Miraculously, she also managed to prevent it from affecting her relationship with Dorian. She wasn’t sure if that would change if and when she fell pregnant but, for the time being, they were managing to keep this unwanted intimacy from coming between them.

With Evie’s assistance, and plenty of doting from Maxwell, the Tevinter was slowly regaining his strength. His appetite remained fragile for several days after his bout of sickness but he was at least managing _some_ food. He was also becoming steadier on his feet. Evie insisted he remain in bed the first day but, after that, she was quite happy to allow him to get up, providing he rested regularly.

A week after the poisoning, he seemed almost back to normal. He joined them for breakfast that morning and Evie took the hearty return of his appetite as a good omen. She decided it was time to push him a little.

“So, I was thinking today we might try you with something a little more physical,” she suggested, as she watched him tucking into his meal with uncharacteristic relish. He glanced up, swallowing a mouthful of poppy-seed bread before fixing her with a licentious smile.

“So bold, my sweet,” he purred, his eyes flashing wickedly. “I admire a woman who makes the first move.”

Maxwell snickered into his tea and even Cullen managed to summon a chuckle. Evie raised one brow sardonically.

“Oh a sex joke!” she exclaimed. “There’s something new for us!”

Dorian gave a soft laugh and picked up his steaming teacup. The sight of it made Evie blush a little and his answering grin told her he knew exactly why. Thankfully, he refrained from calling her out on it.

“Alright, indulge me,” he smirked. “What is it you’re talking about?”

“Just a little light sparring,” Evie shrugged. “If you’re feeling up to it, that is.”

“Ha! Are you going to put me through me paces, amicus?” he teased, though he sobered when Evie shot him a very pointed look. “Alright,” he chuckled. “I shall desist. I’m quite amenable to a little light exercise, actually. It’s been rather dull being so idle.”

“Not that idle,” Max muttered, with a smirk that quickly became a grimace of pain; Dorian had apparently kicked him under the table.

“Good,” Evie beamed. “We’ll get started a little after we finish up here.”

“How about it, tall, blonde and handsome?” asked Max, nodding across the table at Cullen. “Think we should join them?”

“That depends,” Cullen responded, smirking, “are you of a mind to be well and truly conquered before the morning’s out?”

Dorian smothered a burst of laughter behind his hand. Across the table, Max’s emerald eyes lit up with glee.

“Fuck yes!” he exclaimed, delightedly. “I thought you’d never ask!”

Cullen blinked for a moment and he blushed furiously as he realised what he’d just said.

“Maker, that is not what I meant and you know it,” he groaned.

“Pity. Either way, I’m game,” laughed Max. “Though I don’t know what makes you so certain you’re going to trounce me.”

Cullen tilted his head and a sly smirk curled one corner of his mouth as he regarded his potential opponent.

“You’ve just proved how easy you are to distract,” he pointed out, with a gentle shrug. Max’s mouth fell open. Across the table, Dorian turned delightedly towards Evie.

“Look at him, sassing us all on his own!” he exclaimed. “I’m positively bursting with pride!”

“Meet me in an hour in the practise room,” Maxwell muttered, narrowing his eyes. “We’ll see who’s easily distracted.”

 

*

 

“Alright, that should do it,” Dorian murmured, lowering his staff. He’d just set the perimeter for their exercise with a series of barriers, which would keep any spells they loosed from destroying their furnishings. He turned back to Evie, adjusting the collar on the light, sleeveless shirt he was wearing.

“Are you sure you should be doing this?” he asked, quietly. “You know, what with…” He trailed off, his eyes flicking downwards towards her middle. Evie sighed.

“We don’t even know if I’m pregnant yet,” she reminded him. “No need to go wrapping me in cotton wool prematurely, Dorian.”

“Of course,” the Tevinter nodded. “My apologies, I shouldn’t have-“

Evie cut him off with a fierce hug, giggling when she heard the air leave his chest in a great whoosh.

“Don’t apologise for being sweet,” she told him. “But really, I’m fine. You’ve never done me any harm yet so I see no reason to worry now.”

“Perhaps I was merely lulling you into a false sense of security, my dear,” her amicus teased. Chuckling, Evie let him go and she picked up her own staff, instinctively testing its weight in her hands.

“We’ll see,” she smirked. “Come on, let’s get on with it.”

Dorian nodded and he was just taking up a stance opposite Evie when the doors to the practise room opened. Cullen and Maxwell strode in, both of them dressed in naught but their breeches. Evie saw Dorian’s eyes narrow and his lips curled in an approving smirk. However, he said nothing as the pair made their way over to the weapons rack, chatting boisterously amongst themselves, and the two mages began their match.

Evie was pleasantly surprised that being poisoned hadn’t seemed to affect Dorian’s constitution too much. He still twirled his staff with all the grace and competence he’d always had, though Evie did notice his reaction times were a little off. If hadn’t been for his personal barrier, she would have gotten him with a frankly obvious ice blast to a very delicate area.

“What are you aiming there for?” he cried, looking positively aghast, his mana flaring as he renewed his damaged barrier.

“Just keeping you on your toes, darling,” Evie grinned. Dorian huffed and he sent a volley of fireballs right for her head. Evie dodged them, laughing. She knew full well that if Dorian had been at his best, she’d have no hope of beating him. Of course, the distractions in the background were hardly helping him either.

“Come on Templar, is that all you’ve got?!” Evie heard her brother shout, somewhere over her shoulder. She heard a snarl – Cullen – and then Max was cursing, the rapid clangs of metal on metal giving her some idea what was going on behind her. She looked to her opponent only to find he had frozen, staff at the ready and his bottom lip caught between his teeth as he watched the other men fight.

“Dorian,” she laughed softly. She raised her brow but her only response was a slight tilt of his head, his grey eyes growing dark with hunger. The redhead sent a weak mind blast his way. It barely ruffled his hair but it was enough to make him blink, shaking himself.

“Apologies,” he murmured. “I find myself a little distracted.”

“I’ve noticed,” Evie grinned. Then, in a slightly lower voice, she added, “Want to watch?”

Dorian glanced at her and his face lit up with a serpentine smile. “Darling, I thought you’d never ask.”

The barriers around their workspace suddenly dropped and the pair of them set their weapons aside. Dorian took Evie by the arm and they quietly made their way to one of the benches near where Cullen and Max were sparring. Evie understood now why they’d foregone shirts; the pair of them were glistening with sweat. Maxwell was advancing on Cullen with his knives, the blades almost a blur they were moving so quickly. Cullen knocked them aside with his shield, sending Max veering off to the side.

“Well, isn’t this delightfully entertaining,” Dorian purred, and his words practically dripped with lust. He was leaning forward where he sat and his eyes were firmly fixed on the spectacle before him. 

“Really? Does watching them fight do it for you, amicus?” Evie smirked.

“Are you kidding?” the Tevinter sighed. “Maker, how I would love to interpose myself between those two hulking specimens of masculinity…”

Evie laughed. She took his hand in hers and they watched as their lovers fought on with increasing frustration. Despite the fact that they were both very competent, neither of them seemed to be gaining any real ground. It was a constant dance of back and forth, Cullen’s sheer strength outmanoeuvring Max’s agility and vice-versa. They were getting frustrated and, apparently, so was Dorian.

“Winner gets their cock sucked!” he called out, all of a sudden. It was enough to throw Cullen off guard – Maker, Evie thought the man had almost dropped his sword – and Maxwell was quick to use his momentary distraction to his advantage. In a flurry of fast, flashing movements he had Cullen on his back and pinned to the ground. Dorian clapped, laughing.

“Oh, come on!” Cullen protested, panting. “That was cheating!”

“I’m a rogue, blondie,” Max grinned. “I never claimed to play fair.”

“Both of you are just terrible,” he growled, tossing a dark look to the side at Dorian, who merely smirked and blew him a sarcastic kiss. Maxwell heaved himself to his feet and he leaned down to offer a hand to Cullen, who grudgingly accepted.

“Next time we fight, we do it without your cheating boyfriend here to gang up on me,” he muttered, as he straighten up. He tilted his head and raised his arms up towards the ceiling to stretch out his limbs. Evie bit her lip and Dorian beside her made a hungry noise of approval.

“You’re beginning to see the appeal?” he grinned. She could only nod in reply, watching her lover’s damp muscles ripple under his skin. The Tevinter chuckled and clapped her on the shoulder.

“What a delightful display,” he declared, as he too got to his feet. Evie watched him saunter over to the two men, a subtle swing to his hips that she knew all too well. “You fight admirably, my dear Commander,” he praised Cullen, stopping just in front of the blonde. Something in Evie’s stomach twisted as she watched him run a finger down Cullen’s gleaming chest. Her lover visibly quivered, his cheeks pink from something other than exertion. “What a pity you didn’t win,” Dorian said, in a dramatic sigh. He lifted his finger to his lips, sucking it lustily before he leaned in to whisper in Cullen’s ear. Whatever he said, the former Templar turned an alarming shade of crimson, stuttering by way of a reply. Dorian uttered a playful laugh before turning to Max.

“Amatus,” he purred. “Congratulations on your victory. I believe I owe you a reward.”

“Oh yes you do,” Max growled and, just like that, the pair of them were all over each other, kissing as though they’d been separated for months. Maxwell pushed Dorian down to the ground and, for once, the fussy ‘Vint seemed more than happy to roll around on the floor. Evie took Cullen by the hand.

“Come on,” she chuckled, as Dorian began emphatically grinding his hips against Maxwell’s, moaning into their fiery kiss. “I think we should leave. Whatever he has planned, he’s going to do it whether we’re here or not. Besides, I believe I owe him one.”

Cullen nodded mutely, still a furious shade of pink, and he allowed Evie to lead him out of the practise room.

“Remind me not to spar with your brother again,” he muttered. Evie laughed and she pulled him in close, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“Don’t worry, I can teach you all his little weaknesses,” she grinned. “He won’t catch you off guard next time.”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There'll be a nice fluffy companion piece to this in The Extended Cut. It was meant to be included after the icky scene but it just got too long.


	41. Forbidden Desires

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen finally admits he's attracted to Dorian. It doesn't quite go how he expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, there's not much action in this chapter, so I do apologise. It all very much revolves around their relationships. Next chapter will make up for it though. 
> 
> I realise that what I've written here will be potentially controversial. I really hope I don't get anyone's backs up. You're damned if you do, and all that.
> 
> EDIT: I'm adding a warning, just in case: I don't want anyone to read anything they're uncomfortable with. The last scene, after the second cut, contains elements of sex and crossdressing. If this is not your cup of tea, please skip. I can summarise for you at the start of the next chapter. Thank you. :)

XXXVII

Forbidden Desires

_“Such a commendable performance, Commander… I feel I should reward you for your efforts all the same. Should that ever interest you, well, know that I am perfectly capable of handling two cocks at once.”_

Dorian’s parting words re-played over and over in Cullen’s mind. Maker, he couldn’t stop thinking about the other man’s spicy scent as he’d leaned in close, the silken seduction to his tone that would have had anyone in their right mind quivering with want. The blonde was hard just imagining about what those words might mean. Surely he couldn’t take two men at once? Was that even possible?

There was no denying it now: he _wanted_ Dorian. He wanted the infuriatingly beautiful mage with his clever, cutting tongue and his enthralling eyes. He wanted to caress that flawless caramel skin and taste those plump, inviting lips, to know what that stylish moustache would feel like pressed roughly against his face as their tongues fought for dominance.

“Are you alright?”

Evie’s voice jolted him out of his reverie and, at once, he felt a wave of guilt and shame overcome him. How could he sit here, lusting over another man, whilst he had the love of his life in arm’s reach? And he did love her, so very fiercely – that hadn’t changed. But he just couldn’t help his mounting attraction to his Tevinter host.

“I’m fine,” he muttered, as he sat down on their bed. “Just a little weary after that fight.”

Evie fixed him with a dazzling smile.

“Not too weary, I hope,” she purred, and she straddled his lap, steadying herself on his shoulders. “I was hoping I might command a few moments of your attention…” Her voice dropped, gaze falling to his lips, and she leaned in to capture his mouth in a gently passionate kiss. Cullen opened to her on instinct, letting her sweet, familiar taste flood his senses. She was so beautiful, so perfect… so why could he not stop himself thinking of Dorian above him like this? Dorian cupping the back of his neck and subtly grinding against the hardness in his breeches? Dorian gasping delightedly into his mouth as his clothed length rubbed between the mage’s thighs?

“No,” Cullen muttered, and he took Evie by the shoulders, gently pushing her away. “I can’t, Evie, not right now. I just… we can’t!”

Evie’s brow crumpled in a tiny frown and, Maker, how he hated himself for making her look so sad and confused. “What’s the matter?” she asked. “Am I doing something wrong?”

“Never,” he assured her. “It’s just… me. I can’t do this right now.”

He got up off the bed, pacing across the room and trying to put some distance between them. The guilt was gnawing at him, making him feel nauseated. He couldn’t bear to look his lover in the eyes.

“Ok, something’s clearly bothering you,” Evie murmured. “And I know it’s not weariness – don’t think I didn’t notice how hard you are. So what is it? Cullen you can tell me anything, you know that?”

Cullen let out a bitter, self-deprecating sort of laugh. “You say that now…” he whispered. Sighing, he turned to face her, feeling he should at least have the balls to meet her gaze when he broke her heart. “Evie, I think I’m attracted to Dorian,” he confessed, and he watched her face closely for a reaction. He expected her to scowl – or worse, to cry, and Maker would he have felt like shit if he’d made her cry. He did not expect the slow, lilting smile that spread across her face.

“I know, my love,” she chuckled. “It took you long enough to realise it.”

The former Templar blinked, finding himself at a loss for words. She clearly wasn’t in the slightest bit surprised by the revelation. On the contrary, she seemed like she’d been expecting it and _that_ he could not even begin to understand.

“How… you _knew_?” he spluttered. “I don’t understand! Why aren’t you furious?”

Evie laughed then – actually _laughed_ – and she strode towards him to fold him into a loving embrace.

“Oh, my dear, sweet Cullen,” she chuckled, and she pressed a kiss to the slope of his cheekbone. “Darling, the stories might have you believe that falling in love means never so much as batting an eyelid at another person again but that’s simply not true. Look at Dorian and Max… they’re smitten with each other and yet they’ve both made it perfectly clear they think you’re delicious.”

She took him by the hand then, leading him back towards the bed and pulling him down to sit upon its edge. She kept his hand firmly in her own, her eyes warm and inviting, and not for the first time, he wondered how he could possibly deserve such a woman.

“So is this the first time?” she asked him, gently. “The first time you’ve ever felt attracted to another man?”

Cullen felt himself flush at the question but he nodded, determined to be as forthcoming as he could; it was only fair.

“It is,” he murmured. “I don’t know how or why now…”

Evie smiled. “Well, I can’t say I’m surprised,” she quipped. “If any man was going to turn your head, it would have to be Dorian. Stupid, flashy ‘Vint,” she pouted, affectionately.

“Evie, I swear, it’s not like I’ve been purposefully keeping it from you…” Cullen sighed. The redhead hummed sympathetically and she lay her tiny, pale hand across his thigh.

“I know my love,” she soothed, with a gentle squeeze. “That’s not why I ask though. I was thinking more how we deal with this. I don’t want you regretting having never had the chance…” She bit her lip then, face crumpling in a pensive frown. “I think perhaps you should go talk to Dorian,” she suggested. “See to what extent this attraction is mutual and if you want to get it out of your systems.”

“What?” The blonde looked at his lover, aghast. Surely she wasn’t really suggesting… _that_? “Evie, I don’t want to sleep with him!” he exclaimed. Evie raised a brow, lips curling in a sceptical smirk, and he flushed. “Well, I do,” he admitted, “But I won’t! I love _you_! It’s just a silly crush, that’s all. It’ll pass. I’d never throw away what we have for a passing fancy.”

She shook her head at that, smile unfaltering, and lifted their joined hands to press a kiss to his knuckles. “I’m not asking you to throw it away, love,” she assured him. “I’m quite happy with you indulging your curiosity, if you want to. It’s only fair. Maker knows I’ve done my experimenting.”

“Well, I don’t want to!” Cullen frowned. “Maker, how can you say that? The thought of you with another man makes me feel sick.”

“I admit, if it was a woman, I would probably be upset,” she confessed. “But this is Dorian and I know he can give you something I never can. I don’t mind you going to him.”

Cullen scowled, shaking his head.

“No. It’s not going to happen,” he insisted. “Give it a few weeks and it will have all blown over, you’ll see.”

His voice was firm, bordering on harsh, and the former Templar wondered who he was trying to convince most, Evie or himself. His lover nodded. It was hard to tell but he actually thought she looked a little disappointed. He wasn’t entirely sure at what but it made him feel awful to know he’d inspired it.

“If you say so, my love,” she murmured, squeezing his thigh again. “All I want is for you to be happy.”

“I am happy,” he breathed. “Or at least, as happy as I can hope to be in a strange land, where the woman I love is married to another man.” He chuckled dryly at those words. “Well, I think it’s safe to say I have no right to be jealous on that front anymore.” He got up then, gently detangling himself from the warmth of Evie’s touch. “If you don’t mind, I’m going to take in a little air, clear my head. I wouldn’t blame you if you want to do the same.”

Evie’s emerald eyes twinkled knowing but she said nothing. “I’ll let you have your privacy,” she said, softly. “I’m going to go down to the study and fetch my book. I’ll be in the great room, should you have need of me.”

Cullen nodded. “I love you, Evie. And, for what it’s worth, I’m so sorry. Maker, I’ll never forgive myself if this is what breaks us.”

“I’m going nowhere, my love,” the redhead promised him. “You’ve done nothing wrong.”

The blonde sighed. It certainly didn’t feel that way to him.

 

*

 

The air on the balcony was the closest thing one got to cool in Minrathous. Cullen watched the people milling around the busy plaza below - husbands and wives, friends and siblings, even masters and slaves. His lip curled at that. Tevinter wasn’t half as bad as people in the South made out but that… that particular atrocity was one thing that was unfortunately true.

“You’ve been out here a while,” a low voice from behind him rumbled, distracting him from his thoughts. Cullen glanced over his shoulder to see Maxwell wandering over to him, pulling a slim, Antivan cigarillo from within his jacket pocket. The man looked distinctly rumpled and Cullen had to wonder if he was only just escaping Dorian’s passionate cinch in the sparring room.

“I know that face,” the elder Trevelyan muttered. He lit his cigarillo with a match and flicked the burnt out stick over the edge of the balcony. “You two had a fight?”

“Not exactly,” Cullen sighed. “I’d… rather not talk about it.”

Maxwell shrugged and he leaned against the balustrade beside the blonde, blowing curls of rich, silver smoke out of his mouth. “Fair enough,” he nodded. Cullen gave him another sidelong glance, taking in his tousled hair falling free of its tie, and the buttons on his shirt that had clearly been done up incorrectly in haste.

“You look like you’ve _been_ in a fight,” he murmured, to which the other man barked out a laugh.

“Yeah, Dorian can get pretty wild when he’s pent up,” grinned Max. “He’ll bang you so hard your bones’ll rattle.”

The former Templar flushed with mixed embarrassment and arousal. He glanced back out over the bustling square, trying not imagine just how passionate Dorian truly was. He’d never given it much thought before but the idea of two men making love was suddenly intriguing to him. Oh, he knew the mechanics, of course – he’d broken up enough trysts back in the Circle to have seen it first hand – but having never experienced it, he couldn’t help but wonder how it might feel.

“What’s it like?” he found himself asking, before his brain-to-mouth filter could successfully kick in. “With two men, I mean.” He glanced to the rogue, who looked so shocked that Cullen was sure he must have overstepped some kind of mark. “I’m sorry,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “Maker, I shouldn’t have asked.”

“No! It’s fine,” Max assured him, with a chuckle. “Really, you just took by surprise, is all. I don’t mind telling you.” He paused, sucking on his cigar and blowing out another mouthful of silver smoke. “Personally, I find it more intense,” he explained. “Don’t get me wrong, I love sex with women but it’s all soft, sweet and immensely pleasurable. With another man it’s rougher around the edges, even when you’re being gentle. It treads the line between pleasure and pain and, Maker, the sensation is out of this world.”

“Does it… feel as good?” Cullen asked, flushing hotly. Max smirked.

“Oh, fuck yes,” he laughed. “Different but so, so good. See, in us men, there’s this spot right up inside-”

Cullen snorted and it was his turn to smirk. “I am familiar with it, I assure you,” he chuckled, embarrassedly. When the other man raised a questioning brow, the former Templar simply shrugged. “Do you really want to know?” he asked, his tone warning. Max suddenly paled a shade and he shook his head vehemently.

“Maker, no,” he groaned. “I’m learning far too much about my sister’s sexual habits these days. I really don’t want to think about her tonguing your ass.”

“Tonguing?” Cullen frowned. “That’s not what I meant. Interesting, though…”

“Shit, I’ve given you ideas now,” Max sighed, and Cullen chuckled.

“Don’t worry,” he smirked. “I’d never ask anything like that of her. If she hears it off Dorian, however, well… you know what she’s like.”

“Please stop,” the rogue groaned, choking on a drag of smoke. “I really don’t need to think about that.”

Cullen laughed.

Maxwell stayed with him on the balcony until he’d finished his cigarillo – “Dorian hates me smoking these things inside,” he’d said – then turned to head back into the apartment.

“I guess I’ll see you at dinner?” Max asked, and Cullen nodded. “Good. Don’t stay out here stewing for too long, will you? She’ll be missing you.”

“I won’t,” Cullen assured him, turning back to look out over the square again. His mind was mulling over what Maxwell had told him. He tried not to imagine Dorian like that, hovering on the precipice between pain and pleasure, his head thrown back, his beautiful grey eyes alight with need… Maker, he couldn’t help himself. He was supposed to be clearing his head. The blonde needed a distraction

 

*

 

Cullen left the practise room late that night, long after the usual laughter and chatter from the great room had died down. He’d barely spoken to Evie for the rest of the day, feeling too frustrated and guilty to know what to say to her. Skipping dinner, he’d thrown himself into an old Templar training exercise, hoping it might distract his mind from its diatribe. It had helped, for a while. His thoughts, however, kept returning to the words that Dorian had whispered in his ear – in the very same room, no less. Eventually, he’d gotten so pent up, so painfully aroused dwelling on the mage’s meaning, that he’d tossed his sword aside, all but ripped open his breeches and furiously brought himself to a rough, screaming orgasm. Annoyed and ashamed, he’d decided then to call it a night.

Hopefully, being as late as it was, he would just be able to slip into bed. He wasn’t sure he could deal with Evie and the hurt look he’d surely see in her eyes at his sudden avoidance of her. Maker, none of this was her fault.

He was surprised to find the lamps still lit when he entered their bedroom. Curious, he glanced around, seeing no immediate sign of his lover. Perhaps she was still with Dorian and her brother, thought where they were he couldn’t say – he’d neither seen nor heard a sign of them on his way back through. Surely she wouldn’t be in their room at this hour?

“Well, look who’s finally back.”

Cullen jerked his head at the sound of Evie’s voice, oddly huskier than usual. He finally spied her leaning against her vanity and, Maker’s breath, what he saw made his heart skip a beat.

She was wearing a shirt that he instantly recognised as Dorian’s – finest silk, gold edging, no sleeves. It came down to the middle of her thighs, of course, but the effect was interesting; it masked the curves of her hips. And speaking of curves… Cullen’s breath caught in his throat. Her chest was perfectly flat, not a hint of bosom in sight. How she’d managed it, he had no idea. He seriously hoped it wasn’t magic. However, that wasn’t the most shocking thing about her appearance. Cullen’s eye’s travelled up to her face and he registered several things at once. The first was that her hair was darker – black, to be specific – and she’d tied it all back, though not before teasing it up at the front into a stylish coif. Then, there was the neat little moustache, nestled between her nose and her upper lip, curled at the ends exactly like her husband’s. Cullen’s jaw actually dropped. How did she have a moustache? And… why was it so Maker-damned attractive?

“Please tell me that’s not a new spell you’ve been practising,” he whispered. Evie chuckled, a remarkably good impression of the man she was impersonating, and she shook her head.

“Just a silly little thing would-be spies like to use,” she assured him. “It’s only barely stuck on.”

“I… don’t understand,” he murmured. “What is this Evie?”

Evie tilted her head and cocked her hip, and it was so precisely like Dorian that Cullen was genuinely aroused.

“Why, I’m giving you what you want, Commander,” she purred, and she moved towards him, her confident gait was a near perfect imitation of the real thing. The Tevinter accent she’d affected was pretty convincing too and, Maker, if Cullen wasn’t getting hard already. However, he shook his head.

“Evie, you don’t need to do this,” he sighed. “I’m touched that you would go to this much trouble for me but it’s really not necessary.” Smiling, he pulled her close, noting how she smelled precisely like him. He tugged the faux moustache off of her skin. Evie stared at him, confusion and dejection manifesting on her face.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured. “I just thought I’d give you-”

Cullen cut her off mid-sentence with a fiery kiss, groaning when he felt her wrap around his body, bringing all of Dorian’s delicious scent with her. Maker, she even tasted of the heady, full-bodied wine the Tevinter liked to drink and he found himself ridiculously turned on.

“You’re amazing,” he laughed, as he pulled away. “Maker’s breath, I love you so much.”

“So… this is ok?” she asked, timidly.

“This is incredible,” the blonde grinned. “Just… no facial hair. It doesn’t suit you.”

“If you say so, amatus,” she whispered, fluttering her lashes coquettishly. It was only then that he noticed her eyes were exactly the same slate grey as Dorian’s. Growling with lust, he lifted her up, supporting her backside as she wrapped her legs around her waist. Together they staggered towards the bed, Evie rubbing herself against his middle. He could feel her slick heat through the fabric of Dorian’s shirt: it seemed she was wearing nothing underneath.

“How are we doing this?” he panted, as he dropped her down onto the mattress. She grinned salaciously up at him, those eyes glittering, rubbing her backside against his clothed erection.

“You’re familiar with the concept, are you not?” she smirked, as he moaned hungrily. “Or do I need to draw you diagrams?”

“The concept, yes,” he murmured. “I’ve… never actually done it this way before.”

“I can instruct,” she promised, arching against the mattress. “Hold on.”

Cullen whimpered as she pulled away, crawling up the bed on her hands and knees. The shirt hitched up, exposing her perfectly round, smooth backside. The blonde cursed harshly.

“See something you like?” she grinned and she glanced back at him over her shoulder, her expression equal parts smug and mischievous. “We can do it like this, if that does it for you. You will need this, though.”

She retrieved something from beneath the pillow and used one hand to toss it down the bed towards him. It was a bottle of thick, golden oil, which shimmered slightly in the light of the lamps. Cullen pulled out the cork with his teeth and inhaled its rich, musky scent. It was one he recognised, he realised, with a jolt of arousal. He’d smelt it plenty of times around Dorian, assuming it was some sort of fancy fragrance he liked to wear on occasion, Knowing now what it truly was, knowing he’d been so close to the other man after he’d used it… Maker, it was incredibly sexy.

“What do I do?” he asked, roughly. “I’m not sure where to begin.”

“You’ll need to prepare me, darling,” she told him. “This isn’t like fucking a cunt. You need to get me nice and stretched so I can take that magnificent cock of yours.”

Biting his lip, Cullen nodded. He poured a little of the oil onto his fingers and inched up behind Evie, feeling almost giddy with anticipation. The tip of a single finger came to rest against her pucker and he pushed gently, gasping at the resistance. Evie groaned, long and unusually low.

“You’re not going to hurt me, Commander,” she assured him. “Touch me.”

She pushed back and Cullen shuddered at the hot tightness that swallowed his finger right down to the knuckle. Evie hissed with pleasure, rocking her hips. He could smell her arousal and his mouth watered instinctively. Maker, she wasn’t joking. It was very different – the heat, the texture, the tight ring of muscle clamped around the base of his finger. To feel _that_ around his cock… it made him quiver to even think about it.

Cautious, Cullen began a gentle rhythm with his finger, in and out, flexing and curling. He kneeled up right behind his love and made to reach around her to stroke her clit. Evie, however, batted him away.

“Don’t” she panted. “It’ll spoil the illusion. I’ll deal with that… you just keep doing what you’re doing. Maker, Cullen, that feels so good!”

“It’s so tight,” the blonde whispered admiringly. “So good.”

“More,” Evie commanded. “Another.”

Cullen obeyed hastily, pressing another finger alongside the first. This time Evie whimpered as he eased it slowly in and he was certain it wasn’t a sound of pleasure. Instinctively he stopped but she pushed right back against the intrusion, welcoming him into her body. The muscles spasmed around him and Cullen shuddered in desire.

“This is amazing,” he groaned. “How are you even going to fit me in there?”

“You’d be surprised what I can fit in here, amatus,” she gasped. “Oh, that’s it. Just like that.”

Cullen fucked her gently with his fingers, watching in awe as the tiny hole swallowed them up. He was painfully hard in his breeches now. He ached to feel that tight heat flexing around his dick but he didn’t want to rush. He worked her open, his breath growing heavy at the sounds she was making. They were pitched low –on purpose, he suspected – and it was surprisingly arousing.

“Vishante kaffas, Cullen,” she cursed, in a perfect Tevinter accent. “Enough teasing. I want your cock.”

“Are you sure?” he breathed. “That was only two, do you not want to try a third?”

“No, I want you to fuck me,” she whined. “Maker, Cullen, I can’t wait!

The blonde did not need asking twice. Gently pulling his fingers out of her, he unlaced his breeches with hurried, slicked-up hands. A stilted gasp escaped him as his cock bobbed free and he all but whimpered as he oiled himself up in preparation. Evie was rocking impatiently on her hands and knees before him, begging him to fill her. Panting, he pressed himself against the tight ring of her opening, shuddering at the contact on his sensitive tip. 

“Ready?” he murmured, as he gripped her waist with his free hand.

“Yes,” she keened. “Maker, hurry up!”

Cullen bit his lip and he breached her in one long, slow roll of his hips. It was incredible – hot and tight, especially around the base of his length. Evie threw back her head, near sobbing with pleasure.

“Cullen!” she cried. “Oh Cullen!”

“ _Dorian_ ,” Cullen whispered.


	42. A New Lead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maxwell receives a tip-off with regard to the poisoning and sets off to investigate. Naturally, Dorian follows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to say thank you all so much for your kind words on the last chapter. I knew it was a controversial choice when I wrote it and I appreciate that it wasn't going to be to everyone's tastes. Thank you all for being so lovely about it, however you felt personally. 
> 
> We're getting back to the main flow of things this chapter. :) Fewer feelings, more action.

Chapter XXXVIII

A New Lead

 

 

“So,” Dorian asked quietly, swirling the deep amber liquid in his cup. “How was it?”

Evie glanced at him over the rim of her own cup, lips curving in a sly smile. They had not long finished breakfast and were enjoying a leisurely pot of tea together whilst their lovers were going about their morning training.

“It was hot,” she grinned. “He was so into it! And he’s been so sweet and attentive all morning.”

“I can tell,” chuckled Dorian. “He could barely keep his hands off you earlier. I felt a little eschewed!”

Surprise registered on Evie’s sweet, guileless face and he winked, just to show her he was only teasing. The redhead laughed. She set down her cup, leaning over the arm of her chair and planting a kiss on his cheek.

“Thank you,” she murmured, warmly. “You didn’t have to help my crazy scheme.”

“Well, as someone who knows the therapeutic powers of a good pounding, I’d have been remiss not to offer my assistance.”

Evie laughed again, loud and free and bright.

“Yes, well,” she beamed. “I only hope it helped him, if even a little.”

Dorian cocked his head at her. “Why did you offer, if I might ask?” he wondered. “Does the thought of him in the arms of another man truly not bother you?”

“Any other man?” she shrugged. “Perhaps. You? No. I trust you. And Max. Tell me though… if he had sought you out, would you have indulged him?”

The Tevinter blinked, pondering his answer. Truth be told, he didn’t really know. Naturally, the idea of dragging the beautiful blonde into his and Maxwell’s bed and having his wicked way with him – whilst his lover either helped or watched – was incredibly arousing. In reality, however, he couldn’t be so sure; he had an inkling he’d probably regret it.

“I… honestly don’t know,” he sighed. “The fantasy of it is exciting, I can’t deny. But…”

He trailed off, not entirely sure how to voice his qualms. Evie game him an indulgent smile and laid her hand on his forearm.

“It’s alright,” she murmured. “I understand. It doesn’t matter now anyway.”

Dorian covered her hand with his own, squeezing it affectionately. He opened his mouth to speak but found himself distracted by the sight of Maxwell walking into the dining room, shirtless and glistening with sweat. He had a letter open in his hand and he was reading it with a curious expression all over his handsome face.

“You two still here?” he muttered, and he dropped down absently into Dorian’s lap. The mage spluttered, attempting to dislodge the sweaty man from his person.

“Do you mind, you filthy brute?!” he ground out. “Vishante kaffas, I’ve just gotten dressed!”

Evie giggled from the chair beside him and her brother glanced up from his missive, his lips lilting in an irritatingly attractive smirk.

“And here I thought you liked me all flushed and sweating,” the rogue purred, planting a stubbly kiss at the corner of Dorian’s mouth. Maker’s breath, it was embarrassing how quickly the Tevinter reacted to that sensual tone of his lover’s voice. He tried not to squirm in his seat but the shit-eating grin on Max’s face proved the Marcher knew precisely what effect he was having.

“Insufferable arse,” he muttered and Maxwell laughed, pressing another kiss to his lips. Dorian could taste the salt on the other man’s skin and it brought memories of more intimate encounters rushing to the forefront of his mind. He sighed, determined not to let his sneaky lover get the better of him. “What’s that you’re reading?” he asked, casting his eyes downwards to parchment in his hand. “Naughty letter from another of your paramours?”

“As if, Pavus,” Max chuckled. “You’re the only one for me, you know that.”

“Awww,” Evie cooed. “You two are just adorable!”

Dorian felt himself blushing, much to his horror, but he couldn’t quite keep the silly smile off his face. “Yes, well,” he blustered. “That goes without saying – I mean, look at me. Really, though, what is that letter all about? You seem befuddled, amatus.”

“It’s from a friend back in the Free Marches,” Max frowned, and Dorian felt Evie perk up in her chair beside him. “He says the Circles are falling apart… Ostwick’s gone… and Wycombe… the mages are rebelling, trying to pull away from Chantry control.”

“What?” gasped Evie, jumping up from her chair. “Maker’s breath, what happened?”

Max shook his head. “He hasn’t gone into much detail,” he muttered, his green eyes scanning up and down the page. “The Templars are pretty pissed, though. The Order’s trying to pull away too, take matters into their own hands.”

“You mean slaughter them?” snapped Evie hotly. “Let’s face it, that would be the de facto solution for most Templars back home.”

Her voice was tremulous with emotion and Maxwell slipped out of Dorian’s lap to comfort his sister.

“Hey,” he murmured, pulling her into his arms. “It’ll be alright. You know someone will step in soon enough and sort this out. I’d be surprised if the Seekers aren’t already-”

“Oh great, because they’re so much better,” Evie huffed, though she pressed her cheek to her brother’s chest all the same. “I’m not going to say I liked the Circle because that would be a blatant lie,” she whispered. “But I had friends there, Max. I thought at the very least they’d be safe locked up in their tower.”

“I’ll write some letters,” Max promised her. “I can try and find out what happened to them for you. I’m sure they’re ok; apparently not all of them have joined the rebellion.”

“Thank you,” she murmured. “I’d hate to think anything has happened to them.”

Maxwell pressed a kiss to her auburn curls, his arms tightening around the young woman’s shoulders. He caught Dorian’s eye and the Tevinter offered him a sympathetic smile.

So the Southern mages were finally rebelling against their keepers? Dorian couldn’t say he was surprised – it was only a matter of time. Whether or not that was a good thing, however, remained to be seen. He didn’t agree with what the South did to their mages at all but Tevinter’s solution was hardly an example to follow, either. Perhaps this was an opportunity for people to find an alternative?

“What’s going on?” Cullen asked, as he too marched into the room. There was a towel slung around his neck, his hair damp with exertion, and he glanced at Max quizzically. “I thought you were meeting me in the bathroom. What’s wrong?”

Max made to explain but he merely shook his head, handing Cullen the letter instead. Dorian studied the blonde’s face as he read, watching his eyes widen and his lips part as though to speak. He made a jerky, abortive movement, as though he were about to make for the door and tempered it just in time. Then he handed the letter back, his expression stony.

“I feared it would come to this,” he murmured. “I’ll admit, it almost put me off leaving at first. But Ser Barris was a better man than I could ever be and if this happened under him… Maker preserve us, I hope the Seekers of Truth can get things back under control.”

He shook his head and it was clear that he missed the flash of anger in Evie’s eyes at those words. The redhead said nothing, however. She extricated herself from her brother’s arms and went back to her seat. Dorian could see her mind working behind her blank expression; she wasn’t happy.

“That’s not everything, incidentally,” Max chose to add, and he turned back to Dorian then. “I have a lead on the poisoning,” he muttered. “I’m not sure if it’ll amount to anything but I’m going to investigate it later this morning.”

“I’m coming with you,” said Cullen, immediately. “It could well be a trap.”

Maxwell nodded his thanks. “The idea did occur to me,” he admitted. “And no, before either of you two say anything, you’re not coming. At the very least, if something goes wrong, we’re going to need you to come rescue our arses.”

“You inspire such confidence, amatus,” said Dorian, dryly. “Tell me, where is this little investigation to take place?”

The rogue reached into his pocket and pulled out another, decidedly more crumpled, piece of parchment. He handed it to Dorian, who took it with no small amount of distaste and unfolded it out. There was a crudely drawn map of an area just outside of the Gilded Quarter. He wouldn’t have recognised it had the artist not thought to label one of the sketchy oblongs as one of his once frequented brothels.

“I’ve passed through once or twice,” Max shrugged. “Hopefully I’ll have no trouble finding the place.”

“Hopefully you have no trouble, period,” sighed Dorian. “Really, amatus, do you honestly expect me to stand by and let you wander into a silly situation like this?”

“I’ll have Cullen,” the rogue reasoned. “He’s strapping enough to come gallantly to my rescue if it all goes tits up, right gorgeous?”

It was a sign of their growing friendship that the blonde only blushed slightly, chuckling.

“Just don’t expect me to throw you over my shoulder if you get yourself hurt,” Cullen shot back with a smirk.

“Likewise,” grinned Maxwell. “Not sure I could lift your giant muscly ass, anyway. Right, enough chitchat. Let’s go and get cleaned up.” He turned back to Dorian then, and the mage found himself pulled into a surprisingly tender kiss. “I’ll see you shortly, handsome,” he winked and he sauntered off, Cullen in tow, leaving Dorian wrestling with another sappy smile.

“We’re going to follow them, right?” Evie asked, as soon as they’d gone.

“Naturally,” affirmed Dorian. “Those two might be a formidable force back in the South but this is the Imperium. If they’re set upon by mages, they won’t stand a chance.” He glanced over his shoulder at the girl, giving her an appraising look. “Are you alright, incidentally?” he asked. “Don’t think I didn’t notice you glaring daggers into your Templar’s delightful back just now.”

Evie shrugged her shoulders. “I love Cullen but we’ve never exactly agreed on the topic of mage freedom,” she sighed. “He thinks that, corruption aside, the Circles are a necessity, for everybody’s safety.”

“Ah. Yes, I can see why that would upset you.”

“It was never really an issue before,” she went on. “Whether I liked it or not, the Circles existed and neither of our opinions made the blindest bit of difference. Now though… now it sounds like there’s a chance things might change. I have to wonder whose side he might pick, if it ever came down to it.”

_One of the hardships of falling for your Templar captor_ , thought Dorian sadly, but he didn’t say it out loud. Evie’s love for Cullen was a pure thing, not something born of a misguided affection for one slightly less wicked jailor amongst many others. And Cullen clearly had every confidence in Evie’s ability as a mage. Dorian hoped that one day the Templar’s love would inspire that confidence to extend to all mages. He could see it causing issue for them if it did not.

 

*

 

“How long have they been in there?”

Evie peered out of the carriage window for what must have been the fiftieth time in the last ten minutes. It was true, they had been in there a while. Dorian and Evie had followed their lovers in a hired carriage, pulling up a little down the road from the run down tenement marked on the map. They had both seen Cullen and Maxwell disappear into the ramshackle building but, thus far, neither of them had come out. Dorian was starting to get uneasy and he clearly wasn’t the only one.

“Dorian, we should go in there,” Evie entreated him. “It must have been close to an hour now, surely?”

The Altus sighed. He didn’t much like the idea of wandering into a dank, probably dangerous little hovel but, Maker’s breath, if something had happened to those two…

“Alright,” he nodded. “But be on your guard and, at the first sign of trouble, I want you to run.”

“I will not!” said Evie, hotly. “What kind of terrible friend do you take me for?”

“A smart one, I hope,” Dorian smiled. Truly, he was touched by her loyalty but now was not the time. “What good is it if something happens to both of us, my dear girl?” he said, in response to her adorably petulant scowl. “We’re all as good as dead then. No. If we’re set upon, I want you to leave them to me and go straight to Mae. You remember her address, yes?”

Evie sighed out of her nose but she nodded.

“Good girl,” he praised, kissing her on the forehead. “Hopefully, it shan’t come to that but it’s always prudent to have a plan.”

They disembarked the carriage then and Dorian stepped up to the driver’s seat, where the man was patiently reading a dog-eared book.

“For your troubles,” he muttered, pressing a pouch of coin into the man’s long, bony fingers. “We’re headed into that building over there. If we’re not out in ten minutes, return to the estate you collected us from and inform the servants. There’ll be more coin waiting.”

“Of course, my Lord,” the driver nodded. “I’ll wait right here ‘til then.”

Dorian thanked him and he turned back to Evie, walking close at her side.

“Have your barrier ready,” he instructed her, softly. “I shan’t take any chances.”

They entered the tiny building together, the door hanging off its hinges. Dorian’s nose wrinkled at the stench of decay. Maker, the place was more dilapidated on the inside than the outside, if that were even possible. The walls were peeling and mouldy and the floor had clearly not seen a broom in months, judging by the thick layer of grime. There were only a handful of rooms, most of which were empty save for a couple of dirty mattresses and the odd chamber pot that Dorian had to cover his mouth to pass without vomiting. There was no sign of a struggle, though were dozen of sets of footprints and shoeprints in the dust on the floor.

“Where in the Void are they?” Dorian grumbled, nudging aside a pile of rags with his foot. “I’m encouraged by the lack of blood and I see no evidence in this filth-ridden floor of anyone having been dragged away. So where could they be?”

“There’s another door!” Evie called from slightly in front of him and, hurrying to her side. Dorian found she was right. This door was also open and the Tevinter glanced out to see that it led out to a cobblestoned alleyway. Still he could see no sign of Cullen or Max.

“Perhaps they left this way?” he suggested, thoughtfully. “Though that begs the question: where did they go?” Evie bit her lip and he could see the beginnings of tears forming in her eyes. “Now, now, less of that,” he said softly, taking her hand. “We’ve seen nothing to suggest they’re in any form of danger. Perhaps the place was empty and they simply walked right out.”

“So what do we do?” she asked, in a tiny voice. Dorian sighed.

“I suppose the only thing we really can do is head home and await their return,” he replied. “Chances are they might be waiting for us.”

He smiled at her, more confidently than he felt. Truth be told, he was still uneasy but, short of wandering the entire Quarter looking for them, he didn’t know what else they could do.

“Come,” he bid her. “Let us get back to the carriage, before the driver wanders of and tells our staff that we’re dead, hm?”

Evie nodded, though it was clear from her expression that she was hardly happy about it.

“I fancy I’ll need a brandy with lunch today,” Dorian muttered, as they walked briskly back to the waiting carriage. “And I’ll be certain to punish your exasperating brother for making us worry so.”

The trip back to the palazzo was strained, to say the least. They spoke little. Evie could barely keep still, bobbing on the end of her seat. Her hands fluttered like startled birds from her knees to the seat, crossing and uncrossing about her middle and then to her knees again. At one point, Dorian actually had to push her back down onto the padded bench to keep her from fidgeting.

“Venhedis, will you please stop!” he groaned. “You’re making me nauseated just watching you. We’re almost there now.”

“I’m sorry,” Evie murmured. “I just can’t stop thinking about if something’s happened to them.”

“I know, amicus,” he sighed, and he pulled the redhead up close in a reassuring hug. “I’m certain they’re fine. Try not to panic.”

Once the carriage pulled up outside their building, Evie wasted no time. She hopped straight out, without waiting for assistance, and she was tearing for the door as fast as her bustling skirts would allow. Dorian hurried after her, though not before tossing a few more coins the driver’s way. He caught up with her on the stairwell and they half-walked, half-ran, into their apartment.

There, standing in the great room, were Cullen and Max, looking thoroughly intact and unharmed. Dorian breathed a great sigh of relief, though it was quickly stolen away by the sight of the dirty, bedraggled figure on the floor at Max’s feat. It was a woman – an elven woman – and Maker, she was all skin and bones, caked in dirt and Maker-knew what else. At any other time, Dorian might have protested such a mess on his fine Orlesian rug but he was simply too shocked. The girl was in tears, practically cowering at Max’s feet. Maxwell looked partway between annoyed and perturbed, though it was clear from the way he knelt down before her that the latter was winning out.

“What in the Void is going on?” Dorian demanded, making both men look up and the poor woman on the ground sob with renewed terror.

“ _Please, my Lords, I didn’t know what it was, I swear!_ ” she begged. “ _I only did as she told me._ ”

“Max?” gasped Evie, from Dorian’s side. “Maker’s breath, who is this woman?”

Maxwell got to his feet and his face darkened. “She’s a slave,” he muttered. “Or former slave, as the case may be. She was at the rendezvous point we were told to go to. The place was a hell hole so we brought her back here.”

“Why exactly?” asked Dorian, looking the poor wretch over once again. “I know you Southerners don’t agree with some of Tevinter’s practises – and I’m not saying I do either!” he added quickly, sensing Evie’s imminent protest. “But you can’t go around snatching up people’s slaves. They get rather pissy about it, you see.”

“She was abandoned,” Cullen explained, his honey-coloured eyes achingly sad. “It seems she was purchased solely for one task. Her mistress gave instructions for her too meet her at a tavern two blocks away when it was done. Only she never came for her.”

Dorian blinked in surprise at that. Slaves were hardly a cheap commodity. To buy one solely for a single task and then to toss them aside… whoever it was must have been obscenely wealthy. Or very, very desperate.

“What was the task?” he asked slowly. “What could possibly have been so important?”

His lover caught his eye then and Dorian was taken aback by the venom he saw in those often playful green eyes.

“She delivered the poison that almost killed you,” he growled. “The poison that was meant for me.”


	43. A New Addition

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello folks. Apologies that this chapter comes later than usually scheduled. I've had a few personal issues this week to deal with and it set me behind. 
> 
> I don't think there's anything I need to warn you about with this one. Hope you enjoy. :)

XXXIX

A New Addition

 

Evie watched with no small amount of revulsion as Loretta helped the emaciated elf towards the bathroom. The poor girl was so frail she could barely walk and Evie could see her shoulder blades protruding frighteningly beneath her skin. She’d scarcely seen such a sight in her life and just thinking about how much the girl had clearly suffered made her want to cry.

“Another dead end,” Maxwell muttered irritably, looking for all the world like he wanted to kick something.

The elf – Amara, as it transpired her name was – had been able to tell them very little. All she had seen of the woman who’d bought her was the ends of her long, dark hair from beneath the hood of her cloak. ‘Dark haired’ and ‘rich’ were not much to go on, especially in a land like Tevinter.

“Assuming this woman was indeed the person behind the plot,” Dorian had pointed out earlier. “She may simply have been another slave, doing her master’s bidding.”

“So that’s it?” Evie sighed. “All this and still no closer? What about the server who worked the party? The one she delivered the poison to?”

“Dead,” Cullen muttered, forlornly. “Holed up not too far away from where we found her. Someone slit his throat like an animal.”

“Maker,” the redhead whispered, closing her eyes and sinking down onto one of the couches. Cullen sat beside her, taking her by the hand and twining his fingers with hers.

“We’ll get to the bottom of this, somehow,” he assured her. “We just need to find another lead.”

“Like what?” said Max, sullenly. “Our best shot now is to wait around for them to make another attempt at killing me… and hope it doesn’t actually work.”

“Don’t joke, amatus,” Dorian frowned. “That isn’t funny. In fact… In fact, I think if we can’t get to the bottom of this, it might be safer for you to go back to Qarinus for a short while. All these attempts on your life, no matter how clumsy, have happened here, after all.”

His words came out in a rush and it was clear from the pained expression on his face that her husband was not pleased with the idea. Maxwell merely snorted.

“I think not,” he scoffed. “I’m not running from this coward, Dorian, and I’m definitely not leaving you to fall victim to their crude plots again. Not while I have a choice, at least. I _am_ due to meet father in Asariel at the end of the week. Maybe I shouldn’t go…”

“And what, have your father asking questions?” Dorian laughed, mirthlessly. “No, amatus, you should go. I’ll be fine. I’m more than capable of taking care of myself.”

“We’ll be here too,” Cullen reminded him. “For whatever that’s worth.”

Maxwell nodded. “Yeah, I guess,” he sighed, and he too took a seat, flopping into his favourite arm chair. “Fine, I’ll go. It’ll best if I can get business sorted sooner. I want to be back in Minrathous for First Day.”

“What about the girl?” Evie asked, quietly. “Amara?” She turned to Dorian, her tone pleading. “Dorian, we can’t in good conscience send her away. If she doesn’t die of starvation, the poisoner could come back and slaughter her too, tie up all the loose ends.”

“What if she’s a threat?” scowled Max. “Is that really wise, keeping her here?”

“She’s not a threat, Max, you only have to look at her to know that!” Evie argued, heatedly. “Please Dorian,” she begged of her husband. “Put her to work, I’ll pay her salary myself - you know my parents have been throwing money our way since we gave them what they wanted!”

“Alright, alright,” Dorian relented. He looked exasperated but Evie knew him too well to assume he’d been unaffected by the poor girl’s plight. “I’ll speak to Ellery, she if she can’t find her something to do.”

“Thank you,” she smiled. “I know you’ve got a heart underneath all that bravado.”

“Yes, well,” he sniffed, though the corner of his lips lifted in a tiny smirk. “Do keep it quiet, won’t you? I have a reputation to uphold.”

Evie laughed and she nodded. “Well, if we’re done here, I think I’m going to go and do something with myself,” she murmured. “I can barely sit still after all that excitement.”

“Speak for yourself,” Dorian sighed, dramatically. “I think I need to relax with a nice brandy and a good book. Unless either of you fine gentleman would care for a game of chess?” he asked, and his slate-coloured eyes flickered between Cullen and Max.

“We could play a few rounds of Wicked Grace?” Cullen suggested. “Then we could all play.”

“Sounds good to me,” grinned Max. “That is if my dear, bleeding-heart sister is ok with us borrowing her man for a bit?” Her brother fixed her with a grin and Evie rolled her eyes.

“We’re not attached, you know,” she muttered. “If you boys want to play cards, by all means. I, however, am going to do something productive.”

She got to her feet and Cullen squeezed the hand he was still holding. “I can come with you,” he said, softly, “If you want company.”

Evie smiled, leaning down to press a kiss to his brow. “You’re sweet,” she whispered. “But if you want to play Wicked Grace, don’t let me stop you. I’m going to go and work through some of the exercises my language tutor set me. She’s pretty strict: she’ll have my skin if I haven’t improved on my transitive verbs by our next session.”

“As you wish,” Cullen chuckled. “You know where I am if you want me.”

“She always wants you, my dear Commander,” Dorian grinned, prompting the blonde to blush and her brother to groan, covering his ears.

“Don’t need to hear this!” he muttered. Evie simply laughed, throwing a wink at Dorian, who smirked back, before heading for the study. She really did have work to do – mountains of it, in fact, seeing as she’d rather neglected her studies lately in lieu of stolen moments with her beloved. More than anything, however, she needed something to keep her busy. Sometimes, living in her palace of an apartment, having little to do with the outside world, it was easy to forget about the darker side of Tevinter - the ugly side that everyone back home had always reviled. Upon coming here, she’d discovered a whole other side to the Imperium, a side she’d easily become enchanted with. However, beneath that highly polished exterior was a filthy and blood-stained infrastructure, a core that frightened her to see. Dorian often spoke of change in his homeland, of reforms to make Tevinter a better place. Yet having seen the state of the poor elf they’d found, used and tossed aside again like living trash, she had to wonder if the Imperium could ever exist without it. 

*

Evie remained at the desk in study for a solid couple of hours, throwing herself into her work with abandon. She only looked up when a knock to the door disturbed her and realised with a start that it was gone midday.

“Enter,” she called absently, her green eyes flickering down a table of particularly difficult conjugations. The door opened silently and she glanced up to see Ellery enter, with Amara following uncertainly behind. The girl looked much better for having had a bath, though the absence of dirt revealed countless cuts and scrapes that could benefit from attention.

“My Lady,” Ellery bowed politely. “I just wanted to inform you that lunch will be served imminently. Lord Dorian said I would find you in here.”

“Thank you,” smiled Evie, and she turned her attention to the darker haired of the two elves. “Has Amara had anything to eat yet?”

The housekeeper nodded. “As soon as she’d been bathed, my Lady,” she assured. “I was just giving her a tour of the household.”

Evie nodded, smiling, and she got to her feet, walking around the desk so she could face the two women properly. “I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced,” she said, to the dark-haired of the two elves. “My name is-”

To her great consternation, however, Amara dropped, trembling, to her knees. “Mistress,” she stammered, prostrating herself at Evie’s feet. “I know who you are.”

Evie’s eyes widened in horror and she felt suddenly rather sick. “Don’t,” she whispered. “Please, for the love of the Maker, don’t. I’m not your mistress, Amara, and you are not a slave here. I am your employer, for as long as you wish to work for me, and nothing more.”

“I did tell you, my dear,” Ellery smiled kindly, and she helped to poor girl back to her feet. Amara was eyeing Evie like a rabbit would a fox, wary and untrusting, her brow furrowed.

“You… do not wish to be called mistress?” she asked, in a tiny, reedy voice. Evie shook her head.

“That’s not what I am,” she said simply. “I can barely stand to be called Lady Trevelyan – it reminds me far too much of my mother.”

Amara blinked and Evie saw her lips twitch ever so slightly at the corners, as though she wanted to smile but was not sure if it was allowed. The redhead despaired.

“I noticed you’re hurt,” she went on, eyeing the elf’s numerous scrapes and bruises. “If you will allow me, I can assist you.”

“You are too kind but there really is no need, mis – my Lady,” she protested. Evie frowned.

“Nonsense,” she muttered. “Please, let me help you. It’s really no imposition.”

The girl turned frightened eyes to Ellery, who simply nodded, her smile gentle and indulgent. Amara bowed her head in submission and Evie lay a tentative hand on her arm.

“You’ll feel a little tingle,” she said, softly. “It’s nothing insidious, I promise. Just healing magic.”

The elf nodded. Evie pulled at the Fade and summoned the barest lick of power, which she directed towards Amara’s bruised and battered skin. The girl flinched at the feel of her magic but she stayed still, watching it swirl and eddy over her, healing her hurts. Evie had to wonder if anyone had ever done this for her or if she’d always just been left to deal with her own pain.

“There,” she beamed, once it was done. “That’s got to be better.”

“Thank you, my Lady,” Amara whispered. “You are too kind.”

“I was going to summon a healer, with your permission of course,” Ellery explained.

“No need,” said Evie. “You can always come to me, any of you, I hope you know that.”

“You are most generous, my Lady,” the housekeeper bowed. “If you’ll pardon us, we shall take our leave: we don’t want to keep you from your meal.”

Evie nodded. “Of course,” she murmured. “Nor I yours. Make sure she eats well, Ellery. And if there’s anything you need – clothes, extra blankets, whatever – please leave a list on my desk. I’ll have it sorted straight away.”

“Thank you, my Lady. Come Amara. I’ll show you where you’ll be sleeping.”

The redhead watched the pair of them leave, the smile on her lips dimming as the door clicked shut behind them. Her heart ached for Amara – and all like her. Evie found herself wondering if the girl had family, if she had been born into servitude or if she was one of the unfortunate souls who’d been snatched up and smuggled in from someplace else. She promised herself she would find out. Amara was more than welcome to remain but if she had a home she could get back to, Evie would do everything in her power to get her there. It was the least she could do.  

 

*

 

The rest of their day was quiet in comparison to their dramatic morning. They spent the afternoon in practise, Dorian insisting that he was well enough to return to the Circle on the morrow. Judging by the way he consistently trounced Evie in their sparring exercises, the redhead could only agree.

“Are you certain you’re alright?” he asked her, the third time he had to pull her up off the floor. “You’re distracted today, even for you.”

“I’m fine,” she murmured, rubbing at what would likely be a bruised hipbone later. “I’m sorry, I can’t imagine I’m challenging you much.”

For some reason she couldn’t quite put her finger on, she was feeling unusually lethargic. She could only hope she wasn’t coming down with anything.

After dinner and drinks, and a particularly competitive game of chess between Max and Cullen, the former Templar had blushingly requested an ‘early night’. Tired as she was, Evie hadn’t had it in her to turn him down, not when he was smiling at her so lovingly, his caramel coloured eyes bright and hopeful. They retreated to their room to a chorus of jeers and catcalls from the other two, who were curled up on the same sofa. Max was feeding Dorian candied dates with his teeth and Evie didn’t think he had much room to talk by calling them ‘sickeningly romantic’.

In the privacy of their chamber, Cullen had worshipped her with love in his eyes and the gentlest caress of his tongue. He’d brought her to the brink over and over, made her delirious with need, before finally pulling her into his lap and driving up into her. That night, he’d finished with her name on his tongue and, after cleaning his warm seed off her belly, they’d fallen asleep tangled in each other’s arms.

Evie awoke in the small hours to a dull, cramping pain in her middle, an ache that started in her pelvis and radiated down the insides of her thighs. At first, she’d thought it had been due to their earlier exertions, having spent so much time on the edge of orgasm. However, she could feel sticky wetness between her legs and she knew what it was without even having to check. A heavy sigh tumbled from her lips and she sat up in bed. Sure enough, upon pulling back the sheets, she found herself covered in her own blood. Tears filled her eyes and they were rolling down her cheeks before she could even fathom as to why. She was relieved, more than anything; relieved that she wouldn’t have to bear her best friend’s child. And yet she knew that this wouldn’t be the end of it. They’d have to try again and again, because the repercussions of her not getting pregnant were just too awful to think on.

“Evie?” Cullen murmured drowsily from beside her, rolling onto his side. He blinked a few times in the darkness, yawned and then glanced across at her. She saw his eyes widen only slightly as he took in the scene before him and recognised it for what it was. “Oh, sweetheart,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

The sheer sincerity in his voice was beyond touching and Evie couldn’t help it – she found herself sobbing. Cullen was quick to her side, wrapping her in his arms and kissing her shoulders.

“It’s alright,” he hushed her. “Don’t be upset. It was only the first try.”

“I don’t even know why I’m crying,” she laughed though her tears. “It’s so stupid.”

“This is all very complicated,” the blonde said, gently. “However you feel, you’re quite entitled to your emotions. Now, let’s get you cleaned up, shall we?”

He slipped off the bed then and Evie was startled when he leaned over and scooped her up in his arms.

“Cullen!” she protested. “You’ll get blood on you.”

“It wouldn’t be the first time,” he chuckled. “I’d much rather it was yours than anyone else’s.”

Amber eyes shone soft and warm in the moonlight and Evie smiled weakly, relaxing into his arms. She let him carry her into the washroom, where he set her down by the tub.

“Shall I wake Loretta or…?” he asked, quietly, and Evie shook her head.

“No need,” she smiled. “It’s unfair to wake them when I can just do this.”

A quick frost spell was all that was needed to fill the tub with ice. Evie then called forth a very gentle touch of heat, melting and warming it to just the right temperature. Cullen flitted about the room, gathering oils and soap, and began to add her favourite scents to the tub.

“Thank you,” Evie beamed, watching him test the heat of the water with a finger. “It’s sweet of you to do this for me.”

The blonde chuckled. “It’s the least I could do for you,” he murmured, and the adoration in his eyes was so guileless, so intense, that she found herself blushing.

Her mind wandered back to the time this had happened in Dorian’s bed. They had both woken at the same time, so there’d been absolutely no hiding it. She’d cried then too, but not out of fear or trepidation, only sheer mortification. Dorian had been incredibly sweet about it, calling for a bath and picking her out something nice to wear whilst she’d scrubbed the blood and shame from her skin. He’d even come in to help her wash her hair. Yet for all his kindness, she’d never been able to shake the embarrassment, the worry that his patient smile was only a mask for his revulsion.

With Cullen, it was different. He said he didn’t mind and she knew it was true, could see it right there in his eyes. Once the water was steaming, he helped her into the tub and proceeded to clean the blood off her thighs with a soft sponge.

“I’ll have to tell Dorian in the morning,” she sighed. “At least we have a good week before we have to start trying again.”

Cullen nodded, bringing the sponge tenderly to the apex of her thighs.

“It’s not your fault, you know,” he told her. “Whether this works or not, I don’t want you blaming yourself.”

“I know,” she whispered. “These things can take time.”

Time, however, was not something they had in abundance.

 

 


	44. Clearing the Air

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen and Dorian get a moment to smooth things over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys ^_^ I just wanted to say sorry for this update being so long coming! Numerous things really (teething infants, illness, thinking I can juggle two projects at once when I really can't) but hopefully should be back on track for every 2-3 days. Thank you so much for your patience. <3
> 
> This is a bit of a chatty chapter and, I will warn, there are Cullrian hints. Nothing happens, those two just need to iron out their issues. :) 
> 
> Please forgive me if I've made any glaring errors. It's 2am and I'm exhausted. -_-

XL

Clearing the Air

 

 

“Honestly, amicus? I didn’t expect anything different.”

Cullen stood a little way off from the seating area, watching Dorian comfort a trembling Evie. He wanted to go to her, to kiss away her hurt as he’d done last night but, right then, it was not his absolution she needed. For some reason, she’d been terrified of telling Dorian she hadn’t conceived. Cullen had laughed at first, told her that Dorian would likely be as relieved as she was. Yet he’d watched her tossing and turning the rest of the night and known it was still bothering her. She felt at fault and apparently she needed Dorian to reassure her – which was precisely what he was doing.

“You didn’t?” she asked, and her tone was clearly one of surprise. Dorian chuckled and he slipped an arm around her shoulder, giving her a brotherly squeeze.

“Of course not,” he grinned. “I know I’m an exemplary specimen of manliness but even I didn’t expect to get you on the first go.”

To Cullen’s relief, Evie laughed then, shoving the other mage playfully away from her. “Is that what you think?” she groaned, amused. “Maker, don’t tell me your male pride is going to take a hit if this doesn’t work?”

“Of course not,” he snorted. “I couldn’t care less about siring whelps other than… well… you know why we’re doing this.”

Evie nodded and she leaned her head into the crook of his arm. “So we just… go again?”

“What else can we do, my dear?” he sighed. “At least we have a little respite now.”

“That’s what Cullen said,” smiled Evie and Dorian turned to look at him then, his lips lilting in a smirk beneath that perfectly groomed facial hair.

“Smart man, that Cullen,” he noted. “What are you doing lurking over there? Afraid I’ll bite?”

Cullen made his way over to them, shrugging. “She wanted to talk to you,” he said simply. “I thought I’d give you both some space.”

He dropped down on the couch on Evie’s other side and pointedly ignored the way that the backs of Dorian’s fingers brushed his shoulder. It wasn’t as though he’d magically gotten over his little crush on the mage, exactly. If he were honest with himself, the blonde would have to admit he still found Dorian very alluring. However since _that night_ , he’d only become more determined to put it behind him, more determined to be completely and utterly devoted to Evie. That she would do what she did for him… Maker, she was just the most incredible woman. He owed her that much at least.

“Well, I think we’re all done here,” said Dorian, brightly. “I suppose I should go and prepare myself.”

“Are you sure you’re ready for this?” Evie asked, and Cullen could hear the worry in her voice. “The Circle will understand if you’re not.”

“Are you kidding?” the Tevinter replied, with an affectation of an airy laugh. “After everything I went through, do you really think I’m going to risk damage to my standing now? Besides, it’s just the right time. Long enough to keep them wondering yet not too late for tales of my valiant near-miss to be old news. If I’m going to be poisoned at my own party, you can be certain I’ll work it to my own advantage.”

Cullen smirked, though he made a point to hide it; Evie didn’t look particularly enthused.

“You’re going with him, right?” she asked of the former Templar, who nodded emphatically.

“Of course,” he assured her. “I think your brother would have my hide if I didn’t; he’s been spitting feathers all morning as it is.”

Dorian sniffed, clearly trying to sound annoyed, though Cullen could see the warm light of pleasure in his grey eyes. “So overprotective, all of you,” he grumbled. “I am perfectly capable of handling myself. Although, I won’t deny the company is always pleasant.”

The mage winked habitually at Cullen, who merely snorted, shaking his head. “What do you need?” he asked.

“Just to gather a few things from the study,” Dorian smiled.

“Then I may as well come with you,” said Cullen. “We can leave as soon as you’re ready.”

Evie smiled encouragingly. Dorian laughed.

“My, my,” he grinned. “Practically holding my hand. Be careful, Commander; people might get the wrong idea.”

“I’m merely trying to be expedient, you daft ‘Vint,” Cullen sighed, which only made Dorian laugh all the more. “Stop being so obtuse and let’s get going.”

The mage simply raised a brow, challenging him. With a sigh, Cullen grasped the other man’s wrist and hauled him to his feet.

“So bossy!” Dorian laughed, evidently delighted. “Tell me, is he like this in the bedroom?”

Cullen blushed, in spite of his best efforts to remain calm. On the couch, Evie burst into a fit of giggles so consuming she had to hide behind her hands

“Just… come on,” groaned Cullen, and he swept his arm out wide, indicating Dorian to go first. The Tevinter gave a stately bow and he swept off towards the east wing, an impish smirk plastered on his handsome face. Cullen shook his head.

The moment they were both in the study – and the door had been carefully closed behind them – the blonde rounded on Dorian. “Alright… what’s with you?” he asked, suspiciously.

For his part, Dorian acted as though he hadn’t heard him, browsing the bookshelves with a thoughtful expression, a single finger trailing along the spines. “Hm?” he asked, after a moment, and Cullen registered the distinct lack of eye contact.

“You’re overdoing it, even for you,” he elaborated. “What’s wrong? Are you nervous?”

“Nervous?” Dorian scoffed, incredulously. “My dear man, what have I to be nervous of?”

Cullen simply huffed a sigh out of his nose. He arched a single brow at the mage and waited for the man to desist his posturing. After a moment, Dorian did indeed relent.

“Fine,” he muttered. He turned back into the room, leaning heavily on the bookcase behind him. “Yes. I am… a _little_ apprehensive,” he admitted. “I know I was not the target of these foolish attacks, but that hardly comforts me. I also wonder what a poisoning at my home has done to my standing. My peers may take it as an insult that I did not take better care to keep their dreadfully important persons safe.”

Cullen frowned, worrying his bottom lip with his teeth. He couldn’t claim to know the minds of magisters but Dorian’s concerns did not seem particularly far-fetched. Not that he cared much for politicking or popularity contents but clearly it was important to the mage – or, at least, necessary for the progression of his career.

“I would never presume any insight into the minds of your peers,” the blonde began, “though I don’t see why you can’t use this to your advantage.”

“Oh?” Dorian chuckled, mirthlessly. “Pray tell, how might I do that, exactly?”

“Show them how indomitable you are,” shrugged Cullen. “Some fool, albeit mistakenly yes, tried to kill you and are you any worse off for it? No. So you go in there with your head held high and make them wish they had your determination.”

Dorian blinked at him and, for a moment, Cullen was worried he might have said the wrong thing. But then the mage smiled- genuine and sunny – and Cullen released a breath he hadn’t known he was holding.

“Not just a pretty face, are you?” Dorian smirked. “Well, if there’s one thing I can inspire in others it’s certainly envy; I might as well use it to my advantage.”

Cullen snorted. “A spectacular return to form,” he muttered, though he smiled all the same. “So was there actually anything you wanted from in here or were you just stalling?”

“Yes, actually,” the Tevinter sniffed. He turned back to his bookcase, plucking a thick, leather-bound tome off one of the shelves. “The Circle library is always devoid of this particular edition – much easier to bring my own. And I do believe I brought some notes home last time. The question is where did I leave them?”

Shaking his head, Cullen waited patiently for Dorian to find what he was looking for – which transpired to be on his desk, underneath a pile of notes and sketches that Evie had left there the day before.

“Really, did you Templars not instil proper organisational skills into your charges?” he grumbled. “Maker, I adore the girl but she is rather like an indoor tornado.”

Said indoor tornado was waiting for them in the hallway, her brother leaning on her shoulder and whispering in her ear. When Cullen arrived with Dorian in tow, they immediately ceased whatever conversation they were having, their faces donning identical expressions of would-be innocence.

“Kaffas, if that isn’t the most disturbing thing I have ever seen,” Dorian frowned. “Don’t tell me – I’m quite certain I don’t want to know.”

“We just came to see you off, love,” Max shrugged, though Cullen recognised the mischief in his eyes. It was hard not to, when they were exactly the same as his sister’s and he could read Evie with all the ease he could read a book. She smiled at him sweetly – _too sweetly_ – and Cullen made a mental note to corner her about that later.

“Take extra care of him,” she whispered, as she bobbed up onto her toes to embrace him. The silken skin of her lips brushed against his neck, sending a little tremor running down the column of his spine. Cullen only just bit back a groan and he pulled away, frowning at her. Her only reply was a roguish little grin and he had to temper the urge to shove her up against the wall and kiss her like no one was watching. Which was, he supposed, true; Max and Dorian were fully engrossed in their own very non-verbal goodbye.

“I’ll do my best,” the former Templar promised, and he leaned in, pressing a feather light kiss to the very corner of her mouth, knowing it would drive her mad. Sure enough, she whined when he stepped back, her expression somewhere between irritated and impressed.

“You’ll pay for that later,” she pouted, sounding distinctly put out. Her eyes, however, were full of warmth and promise, and Cullen relished the heat it stirred in his belly.

“I count on it, love,” he intoned, softly. Then, making a point not to touch her again, he turned to Dorian, who was only just extracting himself from a rather amorous Maxwell.

“Really, amatus, you’re such a savage,” the mage complained, as he fastidiously re-fixed his moustache. No one, however, missed his effusive smile or the way his entire face lit up like a lantern.

“Come on then, if you’re ready,” Cullen sighed. “I’ve no desire to drag this out.”

They said their farewells to Evie and Max, who resumed their suspiciously hushed conversation even before the doors had been closed behind them. Cullen followed at his usual respectful distance, eyes scanning the foyer and then the street beyond as they stepped out into the bustle of Minrathous. He made a show, as always, of assisting Dorian into their awaiting carriage. Perhaps it was in light of all that had happened, but he found himself warier than usual of the throngs that milled about them.  He was relieved to take up the seat opposite Dorian and close the door behind him, blocking them out.  His eyes went to the man across from him and he snorted with laughter.

“Dorian, your hair,” he chuckled. “You might want to…” Cullen gestured to the centre of his hairline, where several clumps of the ‘Vint’s usually flawless do were sticking out at odd angles. Dorian swore and he began to fiddle blindly in an attempt to fix it. “Here,” Cullen smiled. “Let me.” And without really thinking what he was doing, the blonde slipped onto the seat beside Dorian and carefully rearranged the rebellious strands.

“Thank you,” the mage murmured. “Curse that handsy Free Marcher. I can’t believe he let me go out like that!”

“You can’t?” said Cullen, with a quirk of his brow. “This is Maxwell we’re talking about.”

“Oh alright, yes I can,” Dorian conceded. “He probably enjoyed laying his claim on me, so to speak. Possessive brute.”

He turned then and Cullen realised he’d made a rather foolish error of judgement when the pair of them ended up face-to-face, with nary a couple of inches between them. Immediately, Cullen blushed and, to his utmost surprise, it appeared that Dorian did too.

“Ah,” he sighed, with an attempt at his usual nonchalance. “I should have figured this might happen sooner or later.”

Cullen blinked, trying to process the other man’s words. It was hard, however, when Dorian’s plush lips were so close and he all he could smell was the mage’s heady, exotic scent. The aroma brought to mind Evie’s little roleplay a few nights ago and, Maker, if that wasn’t the worst thing he could have possibly thought of.

“Maker’s breath,” the blonde moaned, and he flopped back against the seat, his hand clapped in frustration to his forehead. Dorian huffed out a laugh.

“Come now, I think we both knew we’d have to address this sooner or later,” he said, reasonably. “It’s hardly surprising. I mean, look at us: we’re easily to two most handsome people in any room.”

Quite against his will, Cullen found himself chuckling. “Don’t,” he groaned, trying to sober himself. “This isn’t a joke.”

“Who’s joking?” said Dorian. “Cullen I have no shame in admitting I find you attractive. Neither of us are doing anything wrong in that respect.”

“Then why does it feel like I am?” Cullen whispered. He attempted to cover his eyes with his hands, to shield himself from the rawness of this much-dreaded conversation. Dorian was having none of it.

“You’re overthinking this,” he chided, and he pulled Cullen’s palms away from his face, forcing him to make eye contact. “It’s not having feeling for others that defines the loyalty in your relationship,” Dorian insisted. “It’s how you choose to act on them. From what I understand, we both have very accommodating partners. Evie essentially gave you free reign to have your wicked way with me, did she not?”

Dorian smirked and bit his bottom lip coyly; Cullen flushed even hotter.

“You know about that?!” he spluttered, with no small amount of horror. “By Andraste, please tell me you didn’t know about the other thing as well…?” he begged. However, the truly wicked smile that graced Dorian’s features was telling. Cullen half-hoped the bottom would drop out of the carriage there and then.

“For the sake of propriety, I shall say no more on that matter,” the Tevinter smirked. “My point is, that despite being given permission to lie with another, you chose not to. I don’t think any woman could ask for a greater affirmation of love than that.”

His smile grew warm then, affectionate, and Cullen couldn’t help beaming in turn.

“I guess I never thought of it like that,” he chuckled. “So… what do we do now?”

Dorian reclined back in his seat then and he cast thoughtful grey eyes up at the roof of the carriage. “Ride it out, I suppose,” he reasoned. “I am growing rather fond of you, Commander; I hope in due time that fondness will overshadow any baser urges I might harbour towards you.” He bounced his eyebrows and Cullen gave a rather graceless snort of laughter. They exchanged a glance – companionable, this time – and Cullen felt hopeful that they might be able to move past their mutual attraction. “Of course,” Dorian added, “We would do well to avoid situations that might exacerbate the things.”

“Ah, yes,” Cullen agreed, embarrassed. “I really didn’t mean to get so close, you now. Not that I’m saying it was bad or anything but-”

Dorian laughed brightly at that. “Stop,” he insisted. “There was no harm done. In fact, considering it led to this, I think we can say it turned out well for the both of us.”

“I think so,” said Cullen, hopefully. The mage grinned.

“Excellent! That’s settled,” he nodded. “Which gives us ample time to discuss a slightly more pressing matter.”

Cullen tilted his head. “The Circle?” he mused, to which Dorian scoffed.

“Maker, no!” he declared. “I’m referring to what those two Ostwick-bred terrors were up to before we left! You did hear them whispering, yes?”

“Oh,” the blonde chuckled. “That. Yes, I think it’s safe to say they’re up to something.”

“Vishante kaffas,” Dorian sighed. “Can we ever just have one drama at a time?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No Dorian. No you can't. Have all the drama.


	45. Another Farewell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maxwell has to leave again and Dorian's getting rather fed up of it.

XLI

Another Farewell

 

 

Dorian perched on the end of the bed, watching Maxwell as he flitted around the room, dumping clothing gracelessly into a travelling bag.

“You’ll wrinkle them, you know,” he sniffed, eyeing his lover’s haphazard packing with no small amount of distaste. “A fine representative you’ll be for your family business looking like a baby nug’s arse.”

“I can have them pressed when I get there,” shrugged Max, smirking. “Though I thank you for the charming comparison, love.”

Dorian scoffed, rolling his eyes at his lover’s easy wit. He was in no mood to laugh. Max was leaving for Asariel imminently and it irritated him how much that knowledge bothered him. Never, in all his years, had he imagined he’d become that man – lovesick and pining and so terribly clichéd. And yet here he was, hoping that Max would change his mind because the thought of parting, even if just for a little while, was discomfiting. Maker, when had become such a sap?

“Could you stop burning a hole in my back with that glare of yours?” chuckled Max, as he pulled open a drawer and started tossing in extra pairs of underwear. “I’m worried you might actually set me on fire.”

“As tempting as it is sometimes, it wouldn’t be worth my while,” Dorian muttered and Max laughed, his green eyes flashing with delight. Apparently finished, he buckled the straps on his bag and tossed it unceremoniously onto the bed. Dorian winced.

“Someone’s catty this morning,” the rogue grinned, and he inched his way up behind the Tevinter, slipping his arms around his waist. Dorian stiffened, determined to be aloof, but it was useless when the other man was pressing delicate, open-mouthed kisses to his neck.

“Amatus,” he sighed, leaning back into Max’s arms. His eyes fluttered shut and he allowed himself a moment to bask in his lover’s warmth. The man’s scent – citrus and cigar smoke with just a hint of lyrium – enrobed him like a mantle. Dorian relished it.

“Is this your way of telling me you’re going to miss me?” Max murmured, trailing the tip of his nose up the column of Dorian’s throat. The mage, if asked, would vehemently deny that he quivered.

“What, miss you and your infernal snoring?” he joked. “Wishful thinking, darling.”

Max laughed, a low, resonant sound that made Dorian’s hair stand on end. Dorian turned his head, attempting to get a good look at the man, but found himself swept up in a long, languorous kiss instead. Sighing, he turned in Max’s arms and tangled his fingers into his lover’s loose hair.

“Shall I take that as a yes?” the Marcher asked, when they pulled apart. In spite of himself, Dorian laughed.

“It might be,” he admitted, with a tiny smile. “Though I hardly know why; I may get a decent night’s sleep for once.”

Smirking, Max favoured him with another kiss, this time on the cheek, before he moved to retrieve his bag.

“Come on,” he chuckled. “The sooner I get gone, the sooner I can return. And then I can get back to depriving you of your sleep – the fun way.”

He slung his pack over one shoulder and took Dorian’s hand in his own. Dorian raised a brow but he followed all the same when the rogue led him out of their bedroom and through the apartment.

“Promise me you won’t go wandering off by yourself, while I’m gone?” Max asked, as they made their way to the hall.

“Wandering off?” laughed Dorian. “What am I, a wayward child?”

Maxwell’s only response was a stern look over his shoulder and Dorian relented with a sigh.

“Alright, if it makes you feel better, I shan’t go ‘wandering off’,” he promised. “And I’ll have Cullen with me when I do leave the house.”

He neglected to mention that even a seasoned Templar like Cullen would struggle if set upon by a host of mages. It would only make Maxwell worry and, as much as he wanted his lover to remain, he refused to manipulate him.

He wasn’t surprised to see Evie and Cullen waiting for them in the hallway.

“Want me to give your best to Father?” asked Max and he laughed at the disgusted look his sister gave him in return. “I’ll take that as no,” he grinned.

“The only thing you can give that man from me is a kick in the shins,” Evie muttered sullenly. She did, however, rise up on her toes to pull her brother into a tight embrace. “Do be careful. There’s a lot of turmoil in Thedas at the moment. Don’t presume we’re too far North for it to be a concern.”

“I’ll be alright,” Max assured her, setting her down. Cullen offered him his outstretched hand and, not a bit to Dorian’s surprise, his amatus batted it aside in favour of a bone-crushing hug. The blonde actually yelped.

“Maker’s breath, man!” he gasped. “I can hardly breathe!”

“I have that effect on people, Cully,” was Max’s reply. He did, however, release the man, clapping him good-naturedly on the shoulder.

“Look after my baby sis, won’t you?” he chirped. “She’s a delicate little flower, needs lots of – OW!”

Maxwell hissed at the little fizzle of electricity that had hit him square on the backside. He glowered at his sister and then at Dorian, who was biting his lip to keep from laughing.

“You taught her that,” he accused and Dorian did laugh then, unable to contain his mirth at the sight of his lover squirming in discomfort, the seat of his pants smoking slightly.

“I might have,” the Tevinter smirked. “Not specifically for use on you, amatus, though I can’t deny its effectiveness.”

Maxwell sniffed dramatically and Dorian might have thought him annoyed, were it not for the twinkle of mischief in his eyes. “Well, I know when I’m not wanted,” he said haughtily. “I’ll just take my leave.” He started as though for the door, taking a couple of paces before suddenly turning on his heel and running full pelt at Dorian. The mage tensed, drawing instinctively on the Fade. Yet Maxwell only grasped him by the front of his robes, pulling him in close and stealing a kiss. Dorian’s eyes felt shut and he relaxed at once, ignoring the sound of girlish giggles a few feet away. Max’s tongue made a brief pass over his lips and managed to coax a tiny groan from Dorian’s unwitting throat. Then, quite as soon as he’d begun, he pulled away again. Dorian opened his eyes to the sight of the Marcher grinning, his expression full of promise and, dare he say it, adoration.

“Try to behave, love,” he purred. “I want you in one piece when I get back.”

“I shall endeavour, for you,” Dorian murmured. Max beamed and he placed one last kiss on Dorian’s cheek before he headed to the door. This time he really did leave, with a cheery wave back at them all as the door closed behind him. Dorian stared after him, imagining he could still feel the warmth of his lover’s lips on his skin. He felt oddly empty, an uncomfortable feeling that he rather wanted to drown with wine. Or brandy. Or whatever he could find, really – even ale would do it. His fingers twitched and he was just contemplating heading for the study, where he knew he had a nice bottle of Orlesian cognac, when he felt a hand settle on the small of his back. Starting, he whipped his head around and found Evie standing beside him, an unsettlingly knowing expression on her face.

“He’ll be back before you know it,” she said softly, and, for a moment, Dorian thought to brush her off, make a joke, tell her he was thankful of the respite or something. But, right at that moment, he was tired of pretending. Living one’s life like an actor on the stage grew incredibly stale – especially when performing for one’s friends. So he simply nodded, trying for a smile, and accepted the casual comfort she was offering.

“I know,” he replied, with a self-deprecating little laugh. “Two weeks is hardly a lifetime but…”

“But you’re madly in love?” Evie grinned up at him and he chuckled, in spite of the obvious teasing.

“Less of your flowery prose,” he admonished. “I’m beginning to see where this new-found sappiness is coming from. Now, if you don’t mind, I think I’m going to drink myself into a stupor. You’re welcome to join me, of course, but…”

He frowned suddenly, trailing off when Cullen’s hulking form sidled up behind him, casting him into shadow.

“You don’t need to do that,” the blonde said, quietly. He laid a heavy hand on Dorian’s should and the mage found himself hemmed in from both sides. Far from being intimidating, however, he found it made him feel surprisingly secure. Safe. _Loved_.

“Why don’t we get out of here for a little while?” Evie suggested. “We could go and get some lunch? I notice you both skipped breakfast.”

Dorian pondered the idea. He had heard, through the steady trickle of gossip at the Circle, of someplace new open at the Vivazzi Plaza. It couldn’t hurt to try it, surely? It would certainly be an improvement on drinking alone in his room.

“Alright then,” he agreed. “As long as I get to choose where.”

He turned to face Evie and Cullen, both of whom were wearing identical smiles of approval.

“Anything you like,” Cullen chuckled.

 

*

 

The Vivazzi Plaza was one of the busiest and most popular locations in the Gilded Quarter and that afternoon was no different. The carriage driver had to drop them at the opposite side of the square to their destination, for there was simply no getting through the throngs of people. Mercifully, it was a pleasant day and Dorian found he was quite happy for the stroll.

“I’m quite glad I let you talk me into this,” the mage proclaimed brightly, as he strolled past a bubbling fountain with Evie on his arm. Cullen followed a pace behind, the crowded space a perfect excuse for keeping closer than might otherwise be deemed appropriate.

“Is it always so busy here?” the blonde wondered. “Maker, everywhere looks rammed to rafters. How are we ever going to get seated?”

“You just leave that to me,” Dorian smirked. “There _are_ a few perks to being the heir of a wealthy Magister, even if they are few and far between.”

They meandered around a street vendor and the little crowd that had gathered around him, weaving in and out to avoid colliding with anyone. Most of those who actually saw him were quick to get out of his way, their eyes flickering nervously over the birth-right round his neck.

The café they were headed for was a flashy thing, with an intricately carved, highly polished black marble edifice that glimmered in the afternoon sun. There were tables outside, sitting beneath an attractive canopy of flowering honeysuckle. It was, like everywhere else, incredibly busy but, with his most charming smile and flash of the Pavus birth-right, the servers found them a pleasant spot in the shade.

“Well, isn’t this quaint?” Dorian beamed, as the three of them sat down. As an executive staff member – more akin to a mercenary than a housemaid - it was not strange to have Cullen sitting with them in a casual setting like this. However, they had to make point of having him sit across the table, facing them both, whilst they played the happy couple. It wasn’t so much of a chore anymore, Dorian found. He only regretted any discomfort it might have caused the blonde.

“Dorian?” asked Evie from beside him, and he turned to her with a smile. “Why are all those people crowded by that alleyway? Maker, are they…?”

The Tevinter followed his gaze and what he saw made his stomach twist uncomfortably.

“Ah, yes,” he murmured. “Slaves aren’t permitted to dine with their masters. They have to wait outside.”

“Like dogs?” she muttered. “Or horses?”

Evie frowned and her mouth pulled into a tight, thin line of displeasure. Thankfully, she said nothing more on the matter, though Dorian could feel the irritation radiating off of her as she picked up her menu.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you, actually,” she began, her voice cleverly controlled. “I’ve been trying to trace Amara’s family for her. It hasn’t been exactly been easy – the records of slaves and their offspring aren’t particularly well-kept.”

“Are you surprised?” Dorian scoffed.

“Not especially,” she replied. “I did manage to find record of her mother in Vol Dorma but she passed a few years ago. There’s no trace of her father though.”

Dorian sighed and he caught Cullen’s eye over the table. The blonde, apparently, had more of a handle on things than his lover, if his distinctly uncomfortable look was anything to go by.

“Evie, amicus,” he muttered. “It’s highly likely that her _Master_ was the father. Or at least someone in the household.”

He watched as Evie’s face contorted predictably in revulsion. “Please tell me you’re kidding,” she whispered. “Why? Why would anyone do that?!”

“It’s more common than you’d think,” Dorian shrugged. “My father… often suggested I do the same. He even offered to buy me a slave specifically for that purpose if I agreed to marry Livia.”

Growing up in the Imperium, he’d never really questioned slavery. His family’s slaves were treated with care and dignity, which was more than most could say. However, Dorian drew the line at using them for satisfaction. The very thought turned his stomach.

“Please tell me you didn’t…?” asked Evie, timidly, and Dorian actually recoiled.

“Vishante kaffas, no!” he exclaimed. “Maker, what do you think of me? Of course not! Never with a slave. Or even a servant, for that matter.” He frowned. “I can’t tell if they’re doing it out of obligation or at attempt to manipulate you for their master… no, definitely not my style. At least with whores you know what their motivation is.”

A server stopped by then and Dorian ordered them a bottle of one of his favourite reds. When he glanced back at the table, Evie was regarding him with a look that was part amusement and part bashfulness.

“You’ve… been with a whore?” she giggled, her eyes bright.  “A pretty thing like you?”

Dorian laughed at that. “As shocking as it might be, my dear, yes,” he chuckled. “I’m… not especially proud of it. But I was young and hot-headed and I had needs I could trust no-one else to satisfy. I was getting sick of my lovers running off to my father so… I changed tack. Paid them extra to keep their mouths shut.”

“Oh Dorian,” Evie sighed and she clasped his hand under the table. “Maker, I don’t think I’ve ever even seen a whore.”

Her eyes were wide and Dorian saw them wander surreptitiously over the crowd, as though she were trying to seek one out. The Tevinter laughed.

“Of course you haven’t,” he grinned. “You’re a sheltered little flower, my dear, and I adore it; don’t ever change.” She smiled and he winked before glancing across the table at Cullen, who looked suddenly rather uncomfortable. Dorian smirked wolfishly. “Well,” he purred. “I was going to ask about you but that shifty demeanour says it all! Go on, do tell!”

“There’s nothing _to_ tell!” Cullen spluttered, though he turned a vivid shade of crimson, his eyes anywhere but Evie. Dorian looked from to former Templar to the redhead and he practically felt the frigidity of the look she shot him.

“Of course not,” he said, smoothly. “I was only teasing you. We’ll speak nothing more of it. Now, for the love of the Maker, how about you pick up a menu and decide what you want? All this fresh air is making me hungry.”

He tried for a winning smile and a change of subject. However, there was something in Cullen’s sheepish disposition, in the ice of Evie’s relentless stare, that told him this discussion was far from over. He was actually relieved when the serving girl arrived with their wine and he was quick to bury himself in in his glass. Maker, had he put his foot in it this time.

 

*

 

Dorian made a point of staying with the pair of them for the rest of the day. It was painfully uncomfortable at first but he gradually managed to move them past the unfortunate subject of prostitutes. He kept them distracted with games and conversation for as long as he could. Why, he couldn’t entirely say. If they were going to have a fight, there was very little he could do to stop them. However, he thought if he could calm them first, let some of the heat fizzle out, it might not be so bad. Maker, he really was becoming a sap.

After their post-dinner game of chess, however, he decided enough was enough. He was tired. Not physically but emotionally and he retreated to his room feeling that he’d at least done his bit to help his friends. Whatever happened next… well, that was up to them.

Perhaps it was his imagination but somehow his room felt a little cooler, a little more stark whenever Max wasn’t there. Sighing, the mage made his way to over to the bed and sank down. He began the almost habitual process of removing his boots, setting them neatly at the foot of the bed. Then he flopped back onto the pillows, not caring for once that he was fully dressed. He could easily have curled up and fallen asleep like that, were there not something hard wedged between his pillow and his head. Leaning up on his elbows, Dorian twisted around and he was surprised to find a pretty wooden box lying beneath him, all tied up with a red velvet ribbon. It’s positioning had clearly been purposeful and he picked it up curiously, turning it over in this fingers. Finding no card, no markings of any kind, he decided there was only one thing for it; he had to open it. Unexpected presents always made him feel giddy and he was smiling as he tugged the ribbon loose and opened the lid. Inside was a piece of folded parchment bearing his name and, beneath that, a stunningly crafted golden locket. Or, at least, he thought it was a locket at first glance. However, as he picked it up, he could feel the power thrumming within it and he could scarcely dare to hope. He set it on the bed and hurriedly opened the accompanying letter.

_Hello gorgeous,_

_I found a little something to keep you going whilst I’m away. I asked Evie to leave it on your pillow for you to find tonight – I can only assume she did?_

_I’m sure I don’t need to tell someone like you what this is. I’ve been trying to get hold of a pair for weeks; it was a close call getting them here in time. Put it on already? I’ll be wearing mine, waiting to hear from you._

_Don’t keep me hanging around, you wicked creature._

_M._

 

If he’d been smiling before, then Dorian was positively beaming now. He picked up the sending crystal, awed and touched that his lover had obviously gone to so much trouble. He’d only ever seen one once so he found himself fascinated as he slipped the chain over his neck and held the pendant in his hand. There was a little clasp on the front and he popped it, opening it up. The crystal inside immediately began to glow. It grew warm in his fingers and the, with a barely audible crackle, Dorian heard Max’s voice.

“Dorian?” he murmured. “You there, love?”

“Maker’s breath!” Dorian laughed. “Yes, of course! Where are you? Can you talk?”

“It’s ok,” he heard Max chuckle. “We’ve stopped at a tavern for the night and I’m up in my room. It’s just us.”

“Good,” Dorian sighed, with a sigh of relief. “Venhedis, Maxwell, how in the Void did you come by these?! They’re as rare as griffon shit.”

“I pulled a few strings, threw a bit of money around,” his lover responded, airily. “I’m fed up of having to leave you behind, Dorian. Letters just aren’t enough.”

The Tevinter laughed softly. He found himself relaxing backward on the bed, pulling the crystal with him as he nestled down into the pillows.

“I confess, it’s growing more difficult for me as well,” he murmured. “Kaffas, I’m becoming one of those tragic, lovelorn maidens you read about in terrible romance novels. This is all you fault, you know.”

“I take full responsibility,” Max laughed, and Dorian could hear a mattress creaking, could hear the rustle of clothing as his amatus made himself comfortable. Maker, it was almost like having him in the room. “So,” the rogue purred, and there was a tone to his voice that sparked a warmth in Dorian’s belly. “Tell me all about your day. I want every _intimate_ detail.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the smut hanger! If you check the Extended Cut tomorrow I fully intend to carry on that little scene to its completion. 
> 
> Yeah, Cullen was naughty. You remember the bit in DA2 with the Blooming Rose? ;) Just because we in an AU doesn't mean I'm gonna miss out juicy bits like that!


	46. A Welcome Victory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dorian finally gets some good news.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe it's been over a week since I updated. For those of you not on Tumblr, who don't see my ramblings, I just want to apologise for the delay. I've got all sorts of stuff going on at home at the moment and finding quality time to write has been difficult. Expect less frequent updates until after the holidays, as things are only going to get more hectic. Thank you so much for your patience. ^_^
> 
> Incidentally, you might notice this chapter is a little shorter than usual. Necessary, I'm afraid; we are gearing up for the beginning of the end!

XLII

A Welcome Victory

 

“You’re angry, aren’t you?”

Evie paused in the act of turning down her side of the bed and only narrowly managed to avoid heaving a sigh. They’d been skirting the issue ever since Dorian had gone to bed. The Tevinter had been an effective barrier between them all day, cleverly redirecting her attention whenever things had threatened to turn ugly between them. It had worked; Evie’s initial anger at finding out about her lover cavorting with whores had been significantly dampened. Yet Cullen had continued to be uneasy and evasive, and it appeared he had finally reached his limit.

“I’m not angry, Cullen,” she answered, after a moment’s pause. It was the truth, too. Given time to calm down after her initial knee-jerk reaction, she’d realised it was hardly any of her business what Cullen had done before they were together. Everyone had a past – herself included.

Yet that didn’t explain why she felt a little betrayed as she slipped between the sheets. It was an irrational reaction, she knew that. Perhaps it stemmed from the fact that she’d never imagined Cullen to be that sort of man. Perhaps it stemmed from the thought that, if he could surprise her with that, what else didn’t she know about him?

“You seem distant,” the blonde murmured, when she lay on her side, facing away from him. “I’m hardly an expert in relationships but I find that usually means someone is annoyed with me.”

Evie did sigh then, long and hard. “I just wish you’d told me,” she admitted. “I thought we knew everything about each other by now.”

Cullen’s arm snaked around her waist and she felt the heat of him pressing against her back. Instinct had her wanting to melt into his arms but she wasn’t going to let that happen – not yet, at least.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, and she couldn’t deny, he sounded genuinely contrite. “I wanted to tell you ages ago but I was afraid you’d judge me. It’s not exactly something I’m proud of.”

He pressed a tentative kiss to her shoulder then and Evie thawed, rolling over in his arms to face him. His apprehensive expression tugged at her heartstrings. She reached up, caressing his jaw with her thumb and watched the lines in his brow gently recede.

“I love you Cullen,” she assured him, softly. “And that will never change. I just want us to be honest with each other. I don’t want us to have any secrets.”

Cullen nodded. “That’s fair,” he agreed. “I promise, that was it. Do you… want me to tell you about it?”

Evie’s immediate reaction was ‘no’ – she did not want to hear any more about it other than that it happened. However, the longer she thought about it, the more she found herself intrigued. If Cullen had paid good coin to indulge his basest desires then she certainly wanted to know what those desires were. For future reference, naturally.

“Alright,” she said slowly, and a sly smile spread across her face. “Give me all the dirty details, Ser Rutherford. What was she like?”

“Really?” Cullen seemed genuinely surprised, a soft blush creeping across his cheekbones. When Evie simply grinned at him and nodded. He heaved a sigh, shaking his head in an expression that was half-amusement, half-disbelief. “Fine,” he muttered. “If you must know, she was elven. Blonde. Petite. Huge blue eyes. We didn’t do… Maker, we didn’t do anything _unusual_ if that’s what you’re getting at. It was fairly standard.”

“What make you pick her?” Evie asked, though she suspected she already knew the answer.

Sure enough, Cullen responded with, “She reminded me of someone. A girl I had a bit of a crush on back in Ferelden.”

“You mean the fabled Grey Warden?”

Evie had heard rumours of Cullen’s involvement with Neria Surana, the Hero of Ferelden. She’d never asked him about her outright but she’d deduced that most of what she’d heard had been just that: rumour. It was clear, however, that there must have been _something_ between them for Cullen to hire a lookalike.

She scrutinised her lover’s expression and the way his blush deepened, his eyes darting skittishly away from hers, made her all the more adamant she was right.

“What makes you think that?” he muttered, uneasily. Evie grinned.

“Cullen, I’m not dense,” she smirked. “I remember the way you used to talk about her. I am capable of putting two and two together.”

The blonde sighed and he glanced across the pillow at her with worried amber eyes.

“…and that doesn’t bother you?” he asked. “I feel like I’m betraying you just admitting it.”

Evie laughed then and the arms she had around him tightened, pulling him flush against her chest.

“Cullen,” she beamed. “I’m not that naïve as to think I’m the only woman you’ve ever had feelings for. It’s in the past. We love each other now. That’s what’s important.”

Cullen smiled, a sweet but tentative thing that didn’t quite smooth the wrinkle of concern from his brow. “So… you’re not mad?” he asked again, tentatively.

“I’m not mad,” Evie confirmed. Then, letting her fingers slide up the back of his neck to tangle in the hair at his nape, she added, “Do I have to prove it to you?”

She tilted her head and brushed her lips ever so gently against the blonde’s. Cullen let out a shaky sigh, chasing the contact and groaning in delight when she indulged him. A flicker of heat flared between them. Evie felt arousal twist low in her stomach and she hooked a leg over her lover’s waist.

“Maker, yes,” whispered Cullen, rolling Evie on top of him, his eyes molten with mounting lust.  

 

*

 

“Good. You’re still over extending yourself but it’s certainly better.”

Evie beamed at Knight-Enchanter Elaena and she let the disruption field drop at last. They’d been practising this latest advancement in her training for over an hour and she was finally seeing some improvement. The blunted knives that Elaena had been throwing her way had not only slowed but managed to stop in mid-air, hanging there, no more threatening than a butterfly.

“Rest assured, living targets will be more difficult,” the formidable woman reminded her. “However, I’m pleased with the progress you’re making. Magister Alexius will get a glowing report.”

“Thank you, Knight-Enchanter,” Evie smiled. She lowered her staff and made to return it to the rack on the wall. “Am I to assume we’ll continue this next session?”

“We will,” Elaena nodded. “I can’t imagine we’ll need many more, after that. You’ve almost learned all I can teach you, Lady Trevelyan.”

Her instructor began to gather her things and Evie’s thoughts turned to the monstrous sunken tub in the main bathroom and the bath she knew would be waiting for her. Her dress was clinging to her skin, even in the relatively cool temperatures of Imperial winter, and she longed shed her clammy layers and be clean. Cullen and Dorian were at the Circle so she’d have the luxury of the place all to herself.

As soon as Elaena had seen herself out, Evie made her way gleefully to the bathroom. Ever reliable, Loretta and Amara had made sure the bath was ready for the end of her lesson. She stepped into the room to the sight of deep, hot water scattered with rose petals, scented steam hovering over the surface like a cloud. The light pouring in from domed glass ceiling was warm and ambient, drenching the place in a heavenly glow. The red-head sighed as she shucked off her clothes. She left them neatly folded in a corner before sitting on the edge of the pool, dipping her toes into the water. It was sinfully hot and she slid in with a groan. The water was deep enough to lap at her collar bone whilst she was standing. She ducked briefly down beneath the surface, letting it soak into her hair and rinse away the evidence of her exertions. Then, remerging with a satisfied sigh, she leant against the edge of the bath and simply let the heat of the water seep into her muscles. Her body was still aching from last night’s passionate cinch with Cullen. Her adorable blonde had been quite keen to prove that she as the only woman he wanted and Evie had hardly been inclined to deny him. She bore the marks of his adoration on her hips still – fingertip bruises that he’d be mortified to see. Evie, of course, wore them like a badge of honour. She loved knowing where he’d been, loved to see and feel him on her the next day. It had made for some teasing over breakfast when Dorian had spotted the bite marks on her shoulders but she’d been quick to shut him up.

She’d been relaxing in the hot water for several minutes when she heard a commotion outside. Voices: loud and exuberant, instantly setting her nerves on edge. Cullen and Dorian weren’t due home for several hours and the servants would never be so noisy. The first thing she thought of were her in-laws and the way they’d casually barged into their home last time. Alarmed, she all but jumped out of the bath and threw on one of the soft and fluffy robes without bothering to dry herself. The main bathroom was halfway down the west corridor. Evie padded silently past the doors to her bedroom, pulling the Fade apprehensively around her as she rounded the corner into the great room. For a moment, she saw nothing, only heard a great deal of clattering around that did nothing to calm her nerves. Then, Cullen and Dorian breezed out of the dining room. The latter had a bottle of Orlesian champagne in each of his hands and he looked nothing short of jubilant.

“There you are!” he exclaimed, upon seeing here. “Your Templar hunk and I were just…” He trailed off, frowning at her state of dress and the magic that crackled in her hands. Evie quickly dismissed it but not before he’d seen. “Maker’s breath, were you going to attack us?” Dorian chuckled, smirking.

“I thought you were intruders!” answered Evie, crossly. “You aren’t normally home ‘til gone five bells and you were making enough noise to raise the dead!”

“Ah, my apologies,” the Tevinter grinned, looking not the slightest bit apologetic at all. “I’ve merely had some exciting news and I’ve a mind to celebrate.”

Evie raised her brows, her curiosity peaked. “Alright,” she murmured. “I’ll bite. What is it?”

At Dorian’s side, Cullen opened his mouth to answer but the mage nudged him in the ribs before he could so much as utter a word.

“Ah, ah!” he admonished. “Not yet! Let her get some clothes on first, hm? The poor girl’s dripping on the floor.”

The blonde assented and Evie shrugged, leading the way to her bedroom. She was shivering now that she was out of the steamy water and she wasted no time in painstakingly picking out an outfit, grabbing instead the first gown she found in her wardrobe and slipping behind the screen. Cullen kindly brought her some smalls and he stood just off to the side, smiling fondly as she dressed.

“So go on then,” Evie called, wriggling into her underwear, “what’s this exciting news you’ve got to tell me?”

“Well,” came Dorian’s reply, and he was closer than she’d expected – just on the other side of the screen, in fact – which caused her to jump. “It appears that a would-be murder at my own soiree has not hindered my chances of success. I’ve been nominated almost unanimously for the Senior Enchanter position. All I have to do is pass the exam and its mine.”

Evie gave a cry of delight and she was halfway to dashing out to hug her friend before Cullen stopped her, looking mortified.

“Oh, right,” she giggled. “Tits.” And began to hurriedly pull on her gown. “Dorian, I am so happy for you!” she gushed. “I knew you could do it!”

“Yes, well, I haven’t technically done it yet,” the Tevinter protested, but it was a token thing. Evie could hear the pride in his voice and she felt it was well deserved. Once she was sufficiently covered, she slipped past Cullen and smothered a laughing Dorian in a fierce embrace.

“You clever, clever thing!” she beamed, squeezing him tight. When she pulled away again, holding him at arm’s length, it was to see him grinning, silver eyes agleam with delight. “Oh Maker, Dorian, your father! I can just picture his face!”

“Ha!” her fellow mage exclaimed. “I’ve thought of nothing else the entire way home! He’ll be torn, I imagine. Senior Enchanter is quite the accolade, even for someone as impossibly difficult to please as him. Yet I suspect at least a part of him will want me to fail, so I can return home with my tail between my legs and start studying in his shadow.”

“We all know that won’t happen,” Cullen smiled. “Even your surlier colleagues were acting like the exam was just a formality. You’ll walk it.”

“Naturally,” smirked Dorian, with a flourished little bow. “That was never in doubt.”

“So is that was these are for?” Evie asked, and she gestured to the bottles of champagne he had brought with him. “Are we celebrating tonight?”

“Of course we are! I’ve already sent word to the kitchens to whip us up a feast. I for one intend to get spectacularly drunk on the best wines we have – possibly pass out on the dining table. What do you say?”

Evie looked from the bottle in Dorian’s hand to the jaunty grin on his face and she laughed. “When you put it like that, how can I possibly say no?”

She looped her arm around his and they exited the master bedroom, Cullen following a pace behind.

“Have you told Max yet?” she asked, her gaze falling to the locket around Dorian’s neck. She’d heard them conversing – and _then some_ – through it a few times since Max had left and it warmed her heart to know that such an innocuous looking trinket kept them both so happy. She could tell when they’d had a conversation; Dorian would come out of his room or the study or, one time, the bathroom with a tiny, private smile curling his lips and lighting up his eyes. It was adorable to witness.

“Not yet,” the Tevinter answered softly, and a hint of that smile appeared on his lips. “It’s a little early to be disturbing him. I don’t want to interrupt his work and raise the question of why his brother-in-law is pestering him at all hours of the day.”

“Well, just make sure that you do,” Evie said. “He’ll want to know.”

Dorian nodded and he led her over to the couches in the great room. Someone – probably Ellery – had thoughtfully laid out glasses and a bucket of ice on the table. Dorian stashed one bottle in the bucket and, after casting a quick frost charm over the second, proceeded to open it up.

“Do you think it’s possible that, after all our rotten luck, things might be set to improve?” he mused, as he popped the cork, laughing when it disappeared off into a corner somewhere.

“It would certainly be a welcome reprieve,” muttered Cullen. “And I’ve only been here for half of the things you’ve all struggled through.”

Evie accepted a glass of the effervescent, pale liquid and she watched the bubbles that gathered at the edge of the glass. She’d like to think they were due some good fortune but in Tevinter, it seemed almost too much to hope.

Naturally, she kept her pessimistic thoughts to herself. Dorian was practically glowing he was so elated and she refused to be the one to puncture his buoyant mood. Instead she raised her glass and toasted her friend’s inevitable success, praying that circumstance wouldn’t make a liar of her.


	47. Suspicious Minds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen helps Dorian deal with his worries.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, lovelies. Again, super sorry for the slow updates at the moment, it's just a very busy time of year. Hope you're all enjoying the run up to the holidays, if you celebrate. Don't get too stressed!

XLIII

Suspicious Minds

 

Cullen was just pouring himself a cup of tea when Dorian burst into the dining room. His hair was an uncharacteristic mess, as though he’d been continuously running his fingers through it, and his expression was one of notable agitation. One hand was fiddling with the locket around his neck and Cullen knew that something was wrong; Dorian Pavus didn’t fidget.

“What is it?” he asked with a frown. “You stormed in here like you had a horde of demons at your coat tails.”

The blonde took it as a sign of how anxious the mage was that he didn’t even deny his worry with a witty quip.

“It’s Maxwell,” Dorian murmured, glancing down at his pendant. “I couldn’t get hold of him last night. It’s the first time in ten days I haven’t been able to reach him with the crystal. Even if he’s busy, he always responds.”

“Ah.” Cullen tried for a sympathetic smile and he pushed the cup he’d just filled towards Dorian, who took it with a quiet murmur of thanks, sinking into the chair beside him. “I wouldn’t worry too much,” Cullen said reassuringly, reaching for another cup. “He might have gone to bed early. Or, knowing Max, he might have gotten so drunk he didn’t notice you trying to contact him. You know what he’s like when he’s on the road.”

The Tevinter nodded and Cullen could practically see his mind working, processing the blonde’s words. “You’re right,” he muttered. “The fool probably started a round of Diamondback with his entourage again. I’ll bet he’s face down, drooling into his pillow as we speak.” He gave an attempt at a laugh but it came out sounding rather strangled.

“Why don’t you try now, if it will make you feel better?” Cullen suggested. Dorian, however, waved him off.

“It’s fine,” he insisted. “I’ll speak to him later. He’ll only gripe if I disturb his beauty sleep. Venhedis, I’ll rest easier when he’s back in Minrathous.” He snatched up a pistachio cake from a platter in the middle of the table and began to pick at it distractedly. “Where’s Evie?” he asked, after a brief glance around the room.

“She was tired so I left her to sleep,” replied Cullen with a shrug. Then, at the mage’s subsequent smirk, he added, “Not like that!”, feeling his face heat. “Maker’s breath, not everything is about sex, you know.”

“Not everything,” Dorian agreed, with a grin. “But more than you’d probably suspect.”

Cullen rolled his eyes and decided to swiftly change the subject, lest they drift into dangerous waters.

“How close to ready are you?” he asked, as he sipped at his tea. “You did say you wanted to get in early today, if we could manage it.”

“We can leave as soon as we’ve eaten, my dear Commander,” the mage replied. “I have it on good authority that I should get a date for my exam today. Frankly, I can’t wait; the anticipation is wearing on my nerves.”

His eyes flickered minutely towards the locket around his neck and Cullen knew that the upcoming test was not the only thing wearing on Dorian’s nerves. He could admit it was rather out of character for Max not to respond to his lover’s call. However, he was not about to add to the other man’s burden by saying so. Chances were there was a perfectly innocent explanation; they’d probably be laughing over it come that evening. Dorian just needed distracting until then.

Luckily for Cullen, the Minrathous Circle was a very distracting place, in that one could not afford to lose oneself in thought. Dorian could make light until he was blue in the face but the simple fact was that it was a thrumming hive of powerful and ambitious mages. Being the heir of a prominent family, Dorian had always been well known amongst his peers. However, since being nominated for promotion, Cullen had seen many of those familiar faces grow cold and calculating in his presence. His success was inspiring envy and the envy of a Magister was a dangerous thing.

“You can practically taste their disdain, can’t you?” Dorian chuckled, as the two of them passed through the foyer. Cullen could feel dozens of pairs of eyes upon them and it made the hair on the back of his neck bristle.

“It’s not funny, Dorian,” the former Templar muttered. “Aren’t you worried that one of them is eventually going to knife you in the back?”

“ _Knife me_?” the other man scoffed, amused. “Don’t be so mundane. We’re mages! More likely a fireball to the back than a knife. And, to answer your question, I’d be rather offended if at least one of them didn’t attempt it. It’s practically convention.”

“I’ll never understand this blighted country,” muttered Cullen. He was sure, however, to do it under his breath.

Not to his surprise, they found themselves in the library that day. Since being nominated for Senior Enchanter, Dorian’s research had effectively been put on hold so he could ‘study’. The man didn’t need to study, Cullen felt. He was no expert in the finer working of magic, of course, but he knew enough to know that Dorian was irritatingly good at what he did. Evie could chatter for hours about the things he’d taught her, very little of which Cullen could understand. Still, for all the Tevinter mage was quick to laud his superior magical training, it endeared the blonde to see that he was not taking the potential promotion for granted. He was thorough and methodical in his review of everything he expected to appear on the exam. Cullen had long since noted that he seemed particularly adept at necromancy.

“What made you choose this particular field of study?” he asked quietly, as he peered over Dorian’s shoulder at a rather gruesomely illustrated tome.

“A long held fascination with the subject,” replied Dorian, brightly. “And admittedly,” he added, flashing a sly smile over his shoulder, “a fair few adolescent fantasies of using it to terrify my father.”

Cullen chuckled. He couldn’t say he blamed the man. From all he’d heard, the word “overbearing” was an understatement when applied to Halward Pavus.

He kept his eye on Dorian as he worked through the morning, watching him pore over many a magical volume and make page after page of detailed notes. However, Cullen was quick to spot that the mage’s usual focus seemed a little _off._ He would be intently on task for a little while then simply stop, staring off into space with an indeterminable expression on his face. The blonde knew what he was thinking - he could see it in his eyes. Dorian was worrying about Max.

“Stop it,” Cullen chided him, after several instances of the mage’s mind wandering. “You aren’t helping yourself.”

Dorian frowned in confusion but it wasn’t particularly convincing. “I don’t know what you mean,” he sniffed. “I’m simply pondering, as those capable of higher thought are often prone to do. You are familiar with the concept, yes?”

He gave Cullen a little wink to soften the jibe. Cullen shot him a hard look in return but Dorian simply smirked and returned to his notes. The blonde didn’t catch him openly worrying again for a while but he knew better than to assume that everything was just so.

In the afternoon, after a harried lunch in the courtyard, during which Dorian had been lobbied by his colleagues under the guise of wishing him luck, they found themselves in the company of a familiar face. Dorian had his nose buried in a particularly ancient looking manuscript so he didn’t notice the man approaching. Cullen, however, recognised the distinguished countenance.

“I thought I might find you here,” the man said, as he strode up to their table. Dorian glanced up then and his face split into a sunny, genuine smile at the sight of his former mentor.

“Why Magister Alexius!” he grinned, and he got to his feet, pulling the man into a one-armed embrace. “Fancy seeing you here!”

“I came to congratulate you, my boy,” Alexius smiled. “I have a brief bit of business in the capital and I couldn’t resist the opportunity to drop in on you, especially not now. It’s good to see you’re hard at work.”

“Well, even the naturally gifted have to make a little effort sometimes,” smirked Dorian. He pulled out a chair and the pair of them sat down at the table, Dorian pouring them both a glass of wine.

“Are you ready?” the Magister asked, with a serious look at his former pupil.

“Naturally,” replied Dorian. “It should be a walk in the park… though, as you can see, I’m taking nothing for granted.”

Alexius nodded sagely. “Good,” he said. “I’m pleased. I see no reason we won’t be celebrating in a month or so. Do you have your date yet?”

“I’m waiting on it as we speak. Though I imagine it will be in about a fortnight.”

“Good. That’s ample time to prepare.” Gereon swiped a finger across the surface of the tabled, snagging up a sheaf of parchment and inspecting the notes upon it. He nodded, nudging it back, before canting his head at his protégé. “Tell me,” he murmured, and Cullen detected a careful edge to his voice, “when was the last time you saw Felix?”

“I haven’t seen him since the day after the party,” frowned Dorian. “Why?”

Alexius’ lip curled in a smirk and he shook his head. “Because the deceitful little shit told me he was staying with you just last week,” he said. Far from seeming upset, however, the man appeared genuinely amused. “He’s been lying to me an awful lot lately. Thinks I don’t know what’s going on.”

“Oh? And what is going on?” Dorian replied airily, prompting a laugh from the older man.

“Don’t play dumb with me, boy,” Alexius grinned. “And thank you, incidentally, for proving precisely where he learnt that particular tactic. I’m talking about this woman he’s courting.” And he laughed again at Dorian’s evident surprise. “Yes, I know,” he chuckled. “I’m aware thst Felix likes to think he’s discreet but he’s not the first young man to go sneaking about over a girl and he won’t be the last. What do you know of her?”

“Honestly? Very little,” shrugged Dorian. “He spoke more of her to Evelyn than he did to me.” He raised his glass to his lips and Cullen had to bite his lip and the undisguised sullenness in Dorian’s voice. “Has he not introduced you?”

“Not once,” Gereon admitted. “Though I have seen her a couple of times. As I say, he is not as subtle as he likes to think he is.”

Dorian suddenly sat forward eagerly. “What does she look like?” he asked, gleefully. “No, no! Let me guess – red haired, light skinned and voluptuous?”

Alexius smiled. “Blonde, actually,” he corrected, and Dorian gave a cackle of laughter that had several of the other scholars glaring in their direction.

“Maker’s breath,” he exclaimed. “Colour me surprised. He was rather infatuated with my dear wife for a while. I honestly thought he’d gone out and found himself a doppelganger.”

“To be frank, so did I,” admitted the Magister, dryly. “But she couldn’t be more different. He actually seems rather happy, Dorian. It’s the only reason I haven’t brought him to task for all his tales.”

“Isn’t he a little old for you to be taking him over your knee?” Dorian teased and his former mentor merely rolled his eyes.

The pair of them chatted amicably for a little while. Cullen did his best to stand out of the way and look unassuming, though it was difficult in an open space like the library. Luckily, Alexius paid him no special attention and the other patrons only glanced his way to offer the typical dirty looks they often reserved for Southerners. When, a short time later, Alexius rose to take his leave, Dorian stopped him with a hand on his arm.

“Before you go,” he began smoothly, “I don’t suppose you’ve heard anything of Evie’s brother Maxwell have you? He’s supposed to be in Asariel on business but Evie can’t seem to reach him.”

Cullen shot Dorian a warning look over his mentor’s shoulder but the mage ignored him.

“Ah, Maxwell,” chuckled Alexius. “Very charismatic lad. Yes, I’ve heard much of him. He was at a big party a few nights before I left. He’s got quite the reputation with the ladies, you know. Half of the women in town are talking about him.”

“I… see.” Cullen saw Dorian’s eyes narrow ever so slightly and the set of his jaw grow tense.

“He’s a bit of a social butterfly, from what I hear,” Alexius went on. “Hopping from soiree to soiree. Nature of his job, I suppose. I’d tell Evelyn not to worry. I imagine he’s just busy working or distracted by one of his many hangers-on.” He chuckled and he somehow managed to miss the flash of pure venom that lit up Dorian’s eyes. Cullen half expected him to combust but he merely smiled politely and shook the Magister’s hand.

“It’s been an unexpected pleasure,” he purred. “Do give my love to Felix, whenever you next catch him.”

“I shall,” nodded Gereon. “And do write me, let me know the date of your exam?”

“Naturally.”

The bid each other farewell and Cullen watched the Magister glide out of sight, scattering a few of the more junior enchanters, who couldn’t bow out of his way fast enough. He glanced worriedly back to Dorian and, sure enough, the man was positively seething.

“Whatever you’re thinking, stop it,” he advised him, calmly. “You know how Max is; he schmoozes for a living. There’s nothing to it.”

“Isn’t there?” Dorian spat. “You heard Alexius, he has himself a little horde of followers! And flirting with them under the guise of working? What better excuse could he ask for!”

The Tevinter squeezed the arms of his chair in a death grip. Cullen could smell the wood scorching, could see the faintest beginnings of smoke curling from beneath golden fingers, and he lunged forward.

“Maker’s breath, would you mind yourself?” he chastised, pulling him swiftly free from the chair. There were two slightly smoking black marks where his hands had been seconds before and Dorian stared at them with obvious embarrassment.

“Kaffas,” he muttered. “I… thank you. I just... Maker, you don’t think he would, do you?”

“Maxwell?” Cullen laughed. “Are you mad?” He reached for the heavy golden pendent around Dorian’s neck and he gave it a playful tug. “Do you really think he’d have gone to the trouble of giving you this if he planned to be out sleeping with other women?” he pointed out. “Never mind the fact that he clearly loves you.”

Dorian gazed down at the sending crystal and he shook his head.

“You’re right,” he murmured. “Maker, of course you are – what was I thinking? I just…”

“Imagined him with someone else and saw red?” Cullen supplied, with a wry smile. “I might have some experience in that regard.”

The Tevinter chuckled at that. “Yes, I recall,” he sighed, and he ran a hand through his hair in a rare gesture of agitation. “I apologise. That was quite unseemly of me. Maker, did anyone notice?”

Cullen cast a quick glance around. “I don’t think so,” he responded quietly. “Though there appears to be someone coming this way now.”

The former Templar stepped back, putting some distance between himself and his supposed client. A young apprentice approached their table, regarding Dorian with nothing short of wide-eyed awe.

“A message for you, my Lord Pavus,” the boy said, and he offered out a sealed scroll with a slender, shaking hand.

“Thank you,” Dorian muttered and he took it from him, tearing into it without reserve. The apprentice bowed and hastily scurried away, looking like he’d just been addressed by the Archon himself.

“Is that about your exam?” asked Cullen, pleased for the distraction. Dorian nodded and he glanced up at the blonde with tiny, sheepish smile.

“Two weeks on Thursday,” he said. “I can scarcely wait. All this dithering about is going to be the death of me.”

“I think you might need something a little stronger than wine with dinner tonight,” Cullen grinned and Dorian actually laughed.

“I think you’re right,” he agreed.


	48. Interlude IV - Lover's Peril

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maxwell finds himself in trouble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi lovelies! This is probably going to be my last update until after the holidays. Forgive me but it's a very busy time of year for this wench! I will, however, be posting a few drabbles and the like to Tumblr (including a smutty little glimpse into Maxwell's past). 
> 
> For now, here's Max and I hope you all enjoy the holidays, if you celebrate!

Interlude IV

Lover’s Peril

_The previous night:_

 

Maxwell glanced at the cards in his hand, his brow furrowed in concentration. A pair of serpents was the best he could do and he could already tell from Rusty’s shit-eating grin that the dwarf had a better hand – Rusty had never quite learnt to cover his tells.

“Andraste’s tits,” the Marcher cursed and he threw his cards down on the scrubbed wooden table. The handful of men and women sat around it laughed. Rusty downed the last of his ale, grinning from beneath his bushy auburn beard.

“D’you fold, pretty boy?” he asked, his wrinkled blue eyes sizing up the pile of silver in the middle of the table. Maxwell nodded with a sigh. He was drunk but not so drunk to think he could win with nothing but a pair.

“Yeah, I fold,” he muttered. Rusty let out a raucous laugh that shook the tavern to it rafters. He scooped the pile of coin towards him with covetous hands and began to count it out.

“As always, it’s pleasure taking your cash, boss,” the mercenary grinned. “You think you’d have learned by now.”

“Apparently not,” shrugged Max, and he drained the last of his brandy in one gulp. He’d had rather a few already that night and he could feel the uncomfortable sensation of his bladder urging to be emptied. “Alright,” he announced, getting to his feet with only the slightest of wobbles. “I’m going for a piss.”

“Going to talk to your fella, you mean?” Corvus grinned, bouncing his dark eyebrows. “Don’t think we haven’t heard you, boss!”

“I imagine you have,” Max shot right back. “I like my men to be noisy. But no, I really am going for a piss. You can come and watch, if you don’t believe me?”

Corvus pulled a face, and Rusty and Evana snorted with laughter. “No thanks,” the archer muttered, flushing into his tankard. “I’ve seen enough of your dick to last me a lifetime.”

Maxwell grinned and he slapped the dark-haired man roughly on the shoulder. “Suit yourself,” he teased. “Rusty, seeing as you’re taking all my coin _on top_ of your wages, you can get the next round in. I’ll be back in moment.”

The dwarf snorted and made a rude gesture in his direction but Maxwell knew he would do it; he was nothing if not a generous winner. The human meandered through the crowded common room of the roadside inn, careful not to step on anyone’s toes. It was the only stop on the highway for quite some time and, as such, it was packed. Once upon a time, he would have enjoyed such a bustling environment. Now, however, he merely longed for the relative peace of Dorian’s salon – for a quiet game of chess with his lover or his sister before retiring to their plush, clean quarters for the night. Rusty had joked once that he was getting old. Maxwell preferred to think of it as growing up.

The cool night air was refreshing, if a little on the chilly side. Max gulped in great, sobering lungfuls as he followed the path round the back of the tavern. Here, the building was hemmed in by trees rather than open road and the Marcher found a bit more privacy to unlace his breeches. He hummed as relieved himself, his mind wandering whilst he tried to focus in the inky gloom. In a few days, he’d be back in Minrathous, back with Evie, Cullen and Dorian. He couldn’t deny it was getting harder and harder to be apart from his bewitching lover. The sending crystals had certainly helped, however, and Max found himself looking forward to the nightly chats before they both went to sleep.

He was just wondering what kind of day Dorian might have had when a noise caught his attention. Finished, the rogue tucked himself back into his breeches and laced them back up. Even after a few brandies, his instincts were still screaming at him: he wasn’t alone. He thought of his daggers, lying at the foot of his bed, and hoped that whoever was lurking in the shadows would not make him regret leaving them upstairs.

Slowly, he turned around and he saw, not one, but several ‘someone’s approaching from all sides of the building. The way they moved was a clear sign they meant trouble and Max was thankful that he at least had a knife tucked in his boots.

“Something I can help you with, gentlemen?” he asked jovially, whilst his eyes glanced this way and that, trying to formulate a plan. Not one of them said a word but several did draw their weapons as they continued to close in on him. They advanced with intent, aware they had him thoroughly surrounded. “Eight against one?” Max counted aloud, flashing an impish grin at the churlish looking man closest to him. “Come now, that’s hardly sporting, is it?”

Still they said nothing, though the closest man offered him an unpleasant sort of smile, as though he were a starving dog and Max a side of succulent beef.

“Look, I don’t know what your women have been telling you but, I swear, I’m a changed man.” Max joked again, for no-one’s benefit but his own. He was no stranger to being walloped by a jealous spouse but they tended to approach him one-on-one rather than en masse. Not to mention he’d been screwing around with no-one but his boyfriend for months.

“ _The boss lady said he was a mouthy little shit,_ ” said one man at last – a wiry fellow off to his left. “ _Not wrong, she._ ”

‘Boss lady’? Maxwell frowned, wondering who of the fairer sex he could possibly have pissed off enough to send a group of thugs his way. True, he’d turned down a few proposals since he’d come to Tevinter and had to knock back his fair share of sexual propositions. But surely that didn’t warrant this?

“ _Look, I don’t know what it is I’m meant to have done_ -”

The man closest to him was apparently done talking, however. He had a blade at his hip but he swung for Max with his bare fists. Even tipsy, Maxwell was quicker and he danced back out of the heavy-set man’s reach. However, it wasn’t much of a victory when two others were closing in from the other side. He dodged a fist from the second but the third got him with a well-placed elbow to the ribs, knocking the wind out of him. He doubled over, another swing from the big brute whistling over his head. A hand dipped into his left boot and his fingers closed around the short blade he had hidden there. Max came up swinging, the blade slashing out in a wide arc. There was a cry of pain and surprise as he sliced at one of their faces.

“ _The fucker’s got a knife!_ ” someone shouted, as one of the men fell back, clutching a bleeding cheek and spitting with rage. “ _Get him, Steele_!”

Alarmed, Max’s green eyes shot upwards, glancing around for whoever ‘Steele’ might be. He heard the tell-tale crack of a twig behind him and his heart dropped into his stomach as realised there must have been someone waiting in the trees. He didn’t have time to turn around. He felt, rather than saw, someone’s presence behind him and then an excruciating pain blossomed from the back of his skull. His eyes watered and black spots danced in front of his vision. The last thing he remembered seeing was the boorish man sneering at him, his crooked, yellow teeth bared in a grin, before he passed out cold.

 

*

 

When he next came to, the first thing Maxwell registered was pain. The back of his head was tender and throbbing – clearly he’d been struck with some heavy, blunt object. He tried to reach up with his hands to check the wound but he quickly realised they’d been bound behind his back.

Groaning, he cracked his eyes open. He was in the back of a covered wagon, which was empty save for a pile of disused sacks in one corner. Judging by the flickering light seeping in through the canvas and the occasional, incredibly painful jolt, he could only surmise that they were moving.

Panic threatened but the rogue beat it down in an attempt to muddle things out. Forcing himself to concentrate through his discomfort, he ran through what had happened in his mind. He’d been set upon by a large group of men, a group who had clearly been expecting him. They’d clubbed him over the head rather than killing him outright and now he was bound – and gagged – in the back of a wagon, being transported to Maker-knew-where. Whoever had done this, they evidently wanted him alive.

There was another bump in the road, which had Max’s injured head bouncing against the wood of the floor. The Marcher groaned and he rolled onto his side before pushing himself up onto his knees. The motion made his head spin and, for several moments, he thought he might vomit from the pounding in his skull. However, it did eventually dull enough for him to regain control. He could hear voices outside and, as carefully as he could, he shuffled over to the very edge of the wagon. If he strained, he could just about make out snatches of conversation.

“ _… about half a day to Val Dorma,”_ a gruff voice was saying. “ _From there, we’ll take the coastal road back to the East_.”

“ _Don’t know why we couldn’t just take a ship,”_ another muttered and Maxwell recognised it as the wiry man from earlier. “ _It’ll take days to get back round there on foot.”_

“ _Boss lady said it was too suspicious_ ,” the gruff man replied. “ _And she’s paying us by the day, so personally, I don’t give a shit how long it takes us to get him back there_.”

There was another bump in the road and Max was pitched forwards, landing painfully on his face. He groaned, feeling his nose break, adding to the agony he was already in. Hot blood tricked over lips. Something cold and hard was poking him in the chin and it took him a moment to realise it was his sending crystal. Somehow, he was still wearing it and he thanked the Maker for his good fortune. That was, however, before he realised his hands were tied behind his back. He needed to be able to open the locket and touch the actual crystal to activate it. There was no way he could manage that whilst he was trussed up like a game bird. He would simply have to wait and hope that his captors would have to untie him at some point.

His heart sinking, the Marcher rolled himself back onto his side once more and settled himself in for a long and uncomfortable journey. Whoever these people were, they’d have to stop eventually, be it to sleep, for food, to take a piss or so on. He would just have to bide his time and wait for the chance to escape. If he couldn’t escape, he might at least be able to get a message to Dorian. Maker, just thinking of his lover made his chest seize up. They hadn’t managed to speak last night. Would Dorian have been upset when he didn’t call? Would he be worried? Part of him hoped so, hoped that the clever mage would realise that something was amiss and set out to investigate.

Would his entourage get in touch, he wondered? Maxwell felt certain they would. Rusty was decent man and he would not let the sudden disappearance of his client go unnoticed. It was a relief to know that somehow, someway, word would get back to Minrathous that he was missing, even if he couldn’t make contact himself. The question was, how would his loved ones know where to look? And, if by some miracle, they figured it out, would they find him before this mysterious woman could do as she wished with him?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PS - Please don't kill me. ;)


	49. Hot on the Trail

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dorian is worried about Max's silence so he, Evie and Cullen set out to look for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy new year, everyone!! I hope you all had a lovely holiday!
> 
> Sorry it's been such a long time updating - it's just been a very busy couple of weeks and several attempts at writing this chapter were utterly thwarted. But it is here! Maker, I hope it was worth the wait!!

XLIV

Hot on the Trail

The sun was just starting to appear on the horizon, casting a rosy-golden glow over the Minrathous skyline. Ordinarily, Dorian might have marvelled at it; it was a rare occurrence that he was ever awake early enough to see the sun rising. That morning, however, the sight of it only filled him with dread.

He’d been awake most of the night, drifting off only when the battle against sheer exhaustion proved too great – and even then, it hadn’t been for long. All afternoon, all evening and well into the night, he’d been trying to get hold of Maxwell and still it was the same as the night before: no response. He was starting to panic. His chest felt tight, like he was stuck in a shirt that was too small and it was constricting his breathing, and he simply couldn’t keep still. The Tevinter couldn’t stand it any longer; something had to be done. What, however, he didn’t know.

He was on his way to the door when he caught sight of his frazzled reflection in the mirror. It gave him pause but only for the briefest of moments. For once in his life, Dorian Pavus didn’t care what he looked like. Something was very wrong and he had to get to the bottom of it.

Without really thinking about it, he found himself outside of Evie’s bedroom and he hammered urgently on the door. There was silence for a moment, which only serve to agitate him more, before he heard the click of a lock and felt the shimmer of Fade energy that meant a ward was being removed. The door opened and Evie appeared in the gap, eyes heavy and hair tousled from sleep. She was wearing a slightly sheer nightdress that left little to the imagination but he could hardly care less about that now.

“Dorian?” she murmured, her voice hoarse. She looked him up and down and, immediately, he saw her perk up. “What’s wrong?” she asked. “You look upset.”

Upset was rather an understatement, Dorian thought, as she stepped aside to grant him entry. He strode into the room, swallowing hard to keep the tears that threatened at bay. It was dark with curtains still pulled across the windows. Evie lit a lamp and Dorian made out the form of Cullen tangled, unmoving, in the bedsheets.

“Alright,” the redhead muttered. “Something’s bothering you. What is it?”

“It’s Max,” Dorian responded instantly. “Evie, I’ve not heard from him for two nights now. I’ve been trying and trying and I can’t get hold of him. There’s just nothing and I-” He halted, his voice cracking, and he took a deep, shuddering breath to try and calm himself. Evie was at his side in a flash, her hand on his arm. She looked pale a visibly concerned in the dim light but, to her credit, she was keeping herself calm.

“What is it?” came a drowsy, sleep-rough voice from the bed. “What’s going on?”

“Dorian can’t reach Max with the crystal,” Evie explained to him, nervously, and the blonde immediately sat up in bed, rubbing at his eyes.

“Still?” he murmured, sounding surprised. “You don’t think he took it off, do you?”

“He promised me he wouldn’t!” Dorian insisted and, Maker, if he didn’t sound slightly hysterical now. Evie gave his arm a gentle squeeze. Her eyes were wide, worried, and it was just too much. He couldn’t stand it. Tears began to leak from the corners of his eyes. He barely choked back a sob. Evie made a soft, strangled sound and suddenly she was on her toes, folding him in her arms. He could feel her trembling slightly and the Tevinter clutched her tight against his chest.

“Where was he?” Cullen asked, abruptly. He didn’t sound quite so sleepy all of a sudden and he was moving about the room, banging doors and drawers as though he were looking for something. Dorian raised watery eyes and saw that he was indeed pulling things from wardrobe and bureau alike.

“He was in Asariel,” the mage replied, thickly. “He’s supposed to be back tomorrow.”

Half naked, Cullen continued to pluck items from a drawer, throwing them into a pile on the end of the bed.

“Go and get dressed and pack yourself a bag,” the blonde instructed. “We’re going after him.”

Dorian’s heart fluttered a little with hope and he nodded intently.

“What about me?” Evie frowned, shrugging out of Dorian’s embrace. “Are you packing for the two of us?”

Cullen faltered ever so slightly and he turned away from the drawer he had open, a pouch of something clutched in his hand.

“I think, perhaps, you should stay here,” he said, quietly. “We don’t know if there’s been any trouble and I don’t want you getting hu-”

“Not a chance!” snapped Evie at once. “As adorable as your overprotective nature is, this is my brother, Cullen! You have got to be insane if you think I’m going to sit at home and do nothing when he might be in danger!”

“But Evie-”

“Don’t “But Evie!” me! If this was one of your siblings, would stand by and do nothing whilst others went out to look for them?”

The air around her crackled slightly, her mana flaring in time with her temper. Dorian had to admire her in times like this. She was a sweet creature for the most part but woe betide anyone who crossed her path – the diminutive redhead had a fiery streak.

“Alright, alright,” Cullen relented, holding up his hands in surrender. “I was just worried about you getting hurt.”

“I know,” Evie sighed, and her mana stilled as quickly as it had surged. “But now’s not the time. Go and get your clothes from the servants’ quarters – I’ll finish up in here.” She turned to Dorian then and her green eyes flashed with determination. “Think you can be ready to go in fifteen minutes?”

In any other situation, Dorian would have laughed in her face. Fifteen minutes? He couldn’t even properly style his hair and moustache in fifteen minutes, let alone complete the rest of his morning ablutions. For Maxwell, however, the mage would happily wander the streets of Minrathous in rags if it meant finding him before anything happened.

“I’ll make sure of it,” he affirmed and he was heading for the door before Evie had so much as responded.

In his own room, he wasted no time, snatching up a smart leather bag and filling it with what few affects he actually kept in there. Then it was back to Evie’s room to throw in some clothes and change out of his rumpled, day-old attire.

“Do you think he’s alright?” he asked her nervously, as he did what he could for his appearance whilst they waited for Cullen’s return. Evie was sitting cross legged on the bed, her arms wrapped a bulging back and her face a perfect mask of worry.

“He has to be, Dorian,” she whispered. “He’s my brother. I’d know if he were… if he…” She closed her eyes and shook her head, refusing to actually say the words. She didn’t need to, of course; Dorian had had the same terrifying thought running over in his head all night. “He’s not,” she insisted, fiercely. “I won’t allow it. But we need to find him.”

“Do you think, perhaps,” the Tevinter began, voicing one the many worries that had manifested since yesterday. “Do you think he simply doesn’t want to talk to me?”

“No.” Evie responded quickly and vehemently, taking him by surprise. “Dorian, he loves you,” she breathed. “He’s crazy about you and that isn’t going to have changed with a couple of weeks on the road. Whatever the reason he’s not responding, I promise you, it’s not that.”

Dorian smiled weakly and he nodded, feeling both reassured and freshly concerned all at once. Luckily, Cullen returned a moment later. His expression was stony and he had a satchel slung over each of his shoulders.

“I’ve spoken to the staff,” he announced. “They’re preparing the horses for us as we speak. And Ellery gave me this – it’s food, though I’m sure we’ll be able to get some on the way.”

“Better to have it and not need it,” muttered Dorian, and he turned away from the mirror. “Are you ready then?”

Cullen nodded and together, the three of them made their way towards the front door. The air between then was rife with tension. Nobody spoke as they headed outside and found a footman waiting for them, with both of their horses saddled and waiting to go. They only had the two, the centre of Minrathous not being a place one could house a vast stable, so Evie climbed up on the black stallion behind Cullen. Dorian mounted the slightly smaller, chestnut gelding and, after loading their packs, they set off through the awakening city towards the gates.

“What’s the fastest way to Asariel?” Cullen asked, as they navigated their way through a veritable swarm merchant’s carts and caravans, all on their way to market.

“The South-Western gate,” replied Dorian, absently. “It takes you out directly onto the Imperial Highway. We’ll have to deviate from it at some point but it’ll be our easiest and safest route from here.”

“Then that’s where we go,” Evie said, her voice more determined than she seemed in that moment. “With any luck, we’ll find Max on the road and we’ll be laughing over this in no time at all.”

Dorian flashed her a strained smile, trying to be encouraged. However, he had a horrible, gnawing feeling in the pit of his stomach that is wasn’t going to be that easy.

 

*

 

 

Dorian was by no means a natural traveller but the journey was easily one of the worst of his life. All he could think about was Maxwell and what might have happened to him. He knew his lover could defend himself in a fight – and rather well – but in a country full of accomplished mages, it would be so easy for him to be overcome. He could have been robbed – the sending crystal alone was worth a small fortune, not to mention his flashy daggers and all the coin he kept on his person. Maker, the image of him lying in a ditch somewhere, bloodied and bruised, made his heart flutter in fear. He tried not to dwell on it, he really did, but with them riding as hard as they were, there was little in the way of conversation to distract him.

Evie, too, was visibly concerned. Maker bless her, she was trying to be strong, but Dorian had seen her dashing tears from her eyes more than once when she thought he wasn’t looking.

They rode for most of the day without really stopping. At dusk, however, Cullen insisted they rest, if only for a few hours.

“I know you’re worried and I am too,” he assured them both when they protested, “But the horses are exhausted. They need time to rest and we could all do with a proper meal.”

Reluctantly, Dorian agreed. He’d had little to eat but a few mouthfuls of bread from the supplies Ellery had packed for them. So, on the promise that it wouldn’t be all night, they stopped at the side of the road and set themselves up a makeshift camp.

“Would you two mind getting a fire going with what we have here?” Cullen asked. “I’m going to find some more kindling and see if I can’t fix us something to eat.”

Dorian nodded and he immediately went to work, gathering what little fuel there was around them and setting it in a pile. Normally, he’d object to such menial tasks but he was thankful to have something to focus on. Besides, it wasn’t as though they’d stopped to hire an entourage, he thought wryly, as he sent a tiny fireball at the pile of wood and watched it engulf them.

“He’ll be alright, Dorian,” Evie murmured. She was sitting on a low, flat rock with her chin in her hands, watching him. When he was sure the fire was burning properly, Dorian went to join her and she leaned wearily against his shoulder. “He has to be,” she added, in a whisper. The Tevinter turned and kissed her cheek but he said nothing. He didn’t know what else he _could_ say. He could only pray she was right.

True to his word, Cullen didn’t make them stop for too long. He threw together a surprisingly decent meal with what they’d been given, even going so far as to find water to boil for tea. Dorian couldn’t bring himself to eat very much but the blonde didn’t hassle him about it. In fact, he was incredibly sweet, keeping himself to himself and giving Evie and Dorian some room to breathe. The redhead sat silently at Dorian’s side for most of the evening, her hand in his and her gaze lost to the crackling flames. He managed to sleep for a little while with his head on her shoulder and, when he woke, he found the fire doused and the horses packed and ready to go.

“Do you feel rested enough to continue?” asked Cullen, kindly. “You didn’t sleep much last night.”

“I’m rather exhausted, truth be told,” Dorian sighed. “But there’s no way I’ll be able to sleep any more than I already have.”

To his relief, Cullen didn’t question him, though he did insist that Dorian ride with him for the next leg of the journey.

“In front,” he added. “At least then if you nod off, I’ll be able to stop you from falling.”

Dorian glanced to Evie, who already had her foot in the stirrup of the gelding’s saddle. She smiled at him and he took this as all the permission he needed. Wearily, he heaved himself up onto the stallion’s back. Cullen slipped into the saddle behind him, his arms snaking around Dorian’s waist. Ordinarily, such proximity to the attractive former Templar would have had him flustered but, at that moment, he was simply glad for Cullen’s sturdy bulk against his back. If nothing else, his warmth was reassuring.

They rode on even as night fell. It was perhaps not the wisest thing to do but being on horseback gave them a definite advantage. A couple of hours after the last light had faded from the horizon, they encountered another group of travellers. It certainly wasn’t the first party they’d passed on the road but this one gave them pause.

“Maker’s breath, is that Rusty?” Evie asked, from slightly ahead of them. Dorian looked up sharply but the redhead was already galloping onwards.

“Evie!” Cullen called out. “Evie wait!”

“Follow her!” commanded Dorian, though he needed have bothered – the Fereldan was already tugging at the reins, charging after his love.

Dorian had never met ‘Rusty’ before but he’d heard Maxwell speak of him. Evie, however, had and the fact she had recognised the group as Max’s entourage – sans Max – made Dorian feel as though he might vomit.

“Where is he?” Evie cried, the moment she pulled up in front of the ragtag band. “Where’s my brother?”

There only four of them: a bushy-bearded dwarf, a tall, dark-haired human man, a lithe and rather sweet-looking elven woman and a man who could only have been her brother. They were all wearing identical expressions of remorse, which did nothing for the frantic pounding of Dorian’s heart.

“Please don’t tell me he’s dead,” he choked out.

The dwarf – Rusty- simply shook his head.

“We don’t know, ser,” he muttered. “He disappeared from the tavern we was staying in outside of the city two nights back. Went out for a slash and never came back.”

Evie gave a sound like a sob then and she almost swooned right off her horse. The dark-haired man was closest to her and he managed to catch her, helping her to the ground. Dorian felt the air leave him in a great rush, as though someone had physically struck him in the chest.

“What happened?” Cullen demanded, urgently. “Did anyone see?”

“Not a soul, ser,” the elven woman answered. “Though, for what it’s worth, we found no evidence of a struggle or… or _worse_.” She looked away, her expression one of obvious concern. “His affects were all still in his room, so we know he wasn’t robbed.”

“Why don’t we get off the road?” the male elf suggested. “Just for a moment. We can discuss this out of the way.”

The tall man was already leading a trembling Evie over to the grass beyond the road itself. Numb and unsure what else he could possibly do, Dorian simply went along with it. Those who had horses dismounted and the group found space just beyond the road to sit down. Someone broke out a bottle of whisky and began passing cups around, for which Dorian was particularly grateful.

“We were on our back to Minrathous to come and find you just now,” Rusty explained. “We didn’t know what else to do. The boss would never just up and wander off like that yet we found no evidence of foul play. All we know is one minute we’re playing cards and he goes to take a piss. Then, after a while, we realise he ain’t coming back. So we went outside to look for him. Nothing. Not a damn thing. All his stuff was still in his room.”

“We waited all night,” the dark-haired man insisted. “When morning came and he still hadn’t come back, we knew something was wrong. We had the inn-keeper check every room, even the outbuildings, but we found no trace of him.”

“He can’t have just vanished!” Evie whispered. “He can’t.” She was huddled up between Cullen and Dorian, shaking like a leaf. Her attempts at stoicism had finally failed, it seemed.

“People don’t just disappear with a trace,” agreed Rusty. “Which stands to reason that he were took. But by who, we ain’t got a clue.”

Dorian bit his lip, his blood running cold as realisation dawned upon him.

“Someone’s been trying to poison him,” he muttered. “Repeatedly! And now he’s been taken, you say! Surely, that can’t be a coincidence?”

“But why just take him instead of killing him?” the male elf asked, earning him a jab in the ribs from his sister. “What?!” he hissed. “It’s true! If it’s the same person that wanted him dead, why would they not try to kill him again?”

“Something must have changed,” Cullen reasoned. “I don’t know what but perhaps this person has decided he’s worth more to them alive than dead.”

“But we don’t know who they are!” exclaimed Evie. “Maker, we don’t know anything about them! Every lead we had turned out to be a dead end! How can we ever hope to find him before they hurt him if we don’t know who we’re looking for?”

A murmured discussion broke out amongst the little group. Dorian lowered his head to his hands and just tried to breathe. Maker, it was like he was in a nightmare. His heart was thumping wildly in his chest and he could feel his skin breaking out in a cold sweat. So Max was alive? Maybe. But they had no idea where he had been taken or by whom other than it might be the same person who’d tried to kill him. It was so unfathomably impossible that Dorian could almost laugh.

“So what now?” he asked, bitterly. “What are we meant to do? Wander up and down the highway and hope we find him?”

“I say we head back to the tavern and turn it upside down,” Cullen responded. “Someone, somewhere must know something!”

Dorian did laugh then, a humourless little snort. Quite without thinking about it, his hand drifted to the locket around his neck and he clutched it hard in his fingers. He wondered where its counterpart was right now, if Max was hurt or afraid. The thought pained him and he squeezed his eyes shut, praying to the Maker that his lover would just be safe.

To his surprise, the locket in his hand grew warm. Dorian almost dropped it in shock and Evie turned wearily to look at him.

“What is it?” she croaked. “You jumped.”

“The sending crystal,” Dorian exclaimed, and his fingers fumbled as he opened up the clasp. “It’s activating!”

Evie and Cullen both sat up straight then, Cullen holding a hand out to silence the group. A hush fell over the little clearing and they heard a fragment of conversation.

“-s warm, my Lady,” a small, male voice said in Tevene. “And glowing!”

“Don’t touch it, you imbecile!” a woman shrieked. “That’s how you activate it!”  

There was a sound that sounded like a slap and then the crystal cut off, growing gold and dim once more in Dorian’s palm. The men and women of Max’s entourage groaned in disappointment. Dorian, however, had heard everything he needed to hear. Blood was rushing furiously in his ears and he wasn’t sure whether he wanted to throw up, scream or burn the entire clearing into ashes.

“Dorian,” Evie whispered, and she was staring at him with round and horrified eyes. “Please don’t tell me that was your mother…”

Swallowing hard, Dorian nodded.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep, you called it. 
> 
> The bitch is back. ;)


	50. Flight to Qarinus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evie, Dorian and Cullen travel post-haste to Qarinus in search of Max.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! Thank you for not murdering me after last chapter. ;) Hope you're enjoying the new year! Sorry for the slight delay, this was due last night but I had to put some finishing touches to it this morning. It's ready for you now, however, so without further ado, here is Chapter XLV!

Chapter XLV

Flight to Qarinus

 

Evie had never seen Dorian so angry. She herself was trembling, her heart tripping over itself with anxiety. Why would _Dorian’s mother_ have Max? What could she possibly want from him? And why would she go to the trouble of having him taken instead of simply inviting him to visit her? They were family by marriage and an influential family to boot; Max would have been hard pressed to find reason to refuse her.

“She knows,” Dorian snarled. “Fasta vass, that’s the only explanation for it! She knows about us!”

The man was positively seething. Evie could feel the Fade crackling around him as he struggled to control his power. Cullen stepped forward, his hand outstretched, and made an attempt to calm him.

“Dorian, you’ve been nothing but careful,” he uttered. “We all have. How could she possibly know?”

“I don’t know, Cullen, but can you think of any other reason for her kidnapping my brother-in-law?” snapped Dorian.

Maxwell’s entourage were still crowded around them, looking politely baffled. For once, however, Dorian didn’t seem to care that he had an audience. He was pacing back and forth, his sending crystal clutched tightly in his fist, his grey eyes flickering back and forth as though he might read the answers off the grass at his feet.

“Vishante kaffas,” he hissed, and he looked up suddenly, fixing Evie with a wild eyed stare. “You don’t think it was her, do you? All the attempts on his life?”

“Um,” Evie said cautiously, not entirely sure how to answer. To be perfectly honest, she wouldn’t put anything past her mother-in-law. This was a woman who’d tried to convince her to drug her only son in order to conceive a child. She certainly seemed the type, though Evie wasn’t too sure how she could say this to Dorian. Luckily she didn’t have to; her fellow mage seemed to have made up his own mind.

“What am I saying, of course it was her!” he spat, and he resumed his furious pacing. “My mother finds out I’m fucking another man instead of my wife and, naturally, her first thought is to have him killed! Really, I should expect nothing less! She is the living, breathing personification of all the worst parts of Tevinter culture! Of course she’d rather poison him than, say, have a civilised conversation with her son!”

“Dorian,” Cullen murmured soothingly. He went to comfort the other man again but Dorian simply scoffed and batted his hands away. Rusty, meanwhile, turned a perplexed frown upon Evie.

“Am I to take it that you know who the perpetrator is then?” he asked. Evie nodded.

“Dorian’s mother,” she sighed. “And my mother-in-law, Lady Aquinea Thalrassian of Qarinus.”

“You’re certain?” the dwarf prodded, to which Evie could only shrug.

“Well, that was definitely her voice we heard just now,” she sighed. “So even if she didn’t do this-”

“I’d bet my moustache she did!” Dorian growled.

“Even if she didn’t do this,” Evie repeated, calmly, “She has Maxwell’s sending crystal, which stands to reason that she is with him or has at least made contact with him since he was kidnapped.”

The men and women of her brother’s travelling party all gave her highly sceptical looks. She knew what they were thinking and, frankly, she agreed with them, but she didn’t quite want to fully face the idea that Aquinea knew about the affair. It was too alarming to even think about.

“So we go to Qarinus,” Cullen declared. “It’s the only lead we have – unless, you think she’d be anywhere else?” he asked of Dorian. Dorian pinched the bridge of his nose and breathed out a long sigh.

“If she’s up to something, she could be anywhere,” he muttered. “But the family estate is the best place to begin looking. She doesn’t often go visiting this time of year.”

“Then we go by sea,” said Rusty, determinedly. “It’s the quickest way. The nearest port town isn’t too far from here.”

Evie turned to glance at the dwarf, surprised.

“You’re coming too?” she exclaimed. “What, all of you?”

“Of course!” he responded, and his tone suggested it should have been obvious. “With all due respect, my lady,” he added, “we don’t make a habit of losing out clients – bad for business. And the boss is a good man. I think I speak for all of us when I say we don’t wanna see him get hurt.

Brows raised, Evie glanced to Dorian, silently asking his permission. Her husband huffed but assented and was striding over to where the horses were tethered with great haste.

“They can come, if they wish,” he agreed. “We may well need the assistance, depending on what exactly we find when we get there. However, I insist we get moving at once! Every moment wasted here is another moment Maxwell is in danger.”

Evie had to agree with him. She glanced over at the company, who she was pleased to see were already moving, gathering their things and heading towards their mounts.

“Corvus, you’re with me,” Rusty said to the dark-haired human. “We’ll ride double – it’ll get us there faster.”

“Do you know the way to the nearest port, then?” Cullen asked. “Can you get us there from here?”

“I can,” the dwarf confirmed. “It’s a few hours ride but we should be able to get there in time for dawn’s departures.”

“And how long from there to Qarinus?” wondered Evie. If Max was already in Aquinea’s clutches and she meant to harm him… Maker, it made her feel sick to even think about it. She knew there was nothing more they could do save for get there as fast as humanly possible but that didn’t make her feel any better. Her only comfort lay in Cullen’s words from before. If indeed it was Aquinea behind all of this, then she had to have had a reason for taking Max rather than killing him outright. Evie could only hope that this would keep him alive long enough to stage a rescue.

Dorian had already mounted the stallion by the time they got to him. Smiling gently, Cullen guided her towards him, squeezing her hand.

“Ride with Dorian,” he bid her, softly. “You both need the support right now more than I do. I’ll be right with you, every step of the way.”

Evie huffed out a sigh, blinking back hot tears, and kissed him on the cheek.

“I love you,” she whispered, her voice cracking in spite of her efforts. Cullen pulled her close, kissing her again on the crown of her head.

“I love you too,” he murmured. “He’ll be ok. We’ll find him, love.”

The redhead nodded, breathing in the scent of him. It calmed her a little and she climbed into the saddle feeling somewhat more stable. She settled behind Dorian, holding on with her arms around his waist, whilst Cullen mounted her gelding.

“I’ll take the lead, if you’re good with that!” Rusty called. “We’ll have to go off the Highway but the road’s pretty decent most of the way.”

“We’ll follow your lead,” Cullen responded. “Holler if you need to stop.”

Rusty inclined his head and then he was off, his dark-haired comrade clutching onto the back of his coat. The elven siblings followed behind and Dorian set off after that. Evie was startled by the force at which he took the reins and she held to him tightly as they veered off the Highway and into the trees.

It wasn’t a comfortable ride. Once they cleared the woodland, there was indeed a serviceable road for them to follow. However, the weight of their worry was like a smog hanging over them. Dorian was so rigid in the saddle, so tense with anger that Evie thought it had to have been hurting him. She’d only seen him even remotely like this once before and that had been when they were under attack on the road to Minrathous. Even then, he hadn’t been so livid, hadn’t spoken with such murderous vitriol in his voice. She could hear him muttering to himself. Most of it she didn’t catch for the wind whipping around them, but she distinctly heard him say he would never, ever forgive his mother for this.

A little way into the journey, however, Dorian’s entire posture changed. The tension just seemed to melt out of him and he ended up hunching over in the saddle. At first, Evie thought he was simply tired and she didn’t blame him – he hadn’t slept much and such tumultuous emotion could be draining. However, when his shoulders began to shake, she quickly realised she was mistaken.

“Dorian,” she murmured, and she pressed herself as much against him as she could, trying to lean over his shoulder. Up close, she could hear his shuddering breaths and it made her heart ache in her chest.

“Cullen!” she called out to the blonde riding beside them. “We need to stop!”

Maker bless him, her lover took one look and Dorian and simply nodded, spurring his horse on ahead to inform the others. Dorian didn’t react when Evie took the reins from him and bid their steed to come to a halt. She dismounted immediately and took Dorian by the hand. That he did as she asked so pliantly was disconcerting and, without a care for their surroundings, she pulled the man into a fierce hug.

“He’ll be ok,” she promised. “He’s strong and he’s stubborn and whatever they’re doing, he’ll fight it.”

Dorian only clutched at the back of her cloak, sobbing into her chest like a man who’d just had his heart ripped out. She’d seen him cry before but never like this, never anything more than a few emotional tears, quickly dashed away with a witty quip. Evie could feel her own tears burning her eyes in spite of her words of comfort. She pulled her friend close, kissing his fragrant hair, and let him pour out his sorrow.

To their credit, the others waited patiently for the few minutes it took them to get it together. Through her haze of tears, Evie caught Cullen’s eyes and the agonised expression on his face – as though he were desperate to help but was holding back out of sheer chivalry – made her weep anew. Eventually Dorian’s body-wracking sobs lessened. He pulled away, wiping his eyes and sniffing miserably.

“Maker, I must look a dreadful mess,” he muttered, with an attempt at a laugh. “Dorian Pavus, an unseemly, blubbering wreck in front of total strangers. My ancestors would be horrified.”

“Nothing new there,” Evie managed, weakly, and she was pleased that he did chuckle then, if only momentarily.

“I’m sorry,” he sighed. “To succumb to despair when all may yet be well…”

Evie took his hand and held it tightly in both her own.  “It’s alright to be afraid,” she murmured. “But we mustn’t let it consume us. We have to have hope. Max is strong.”

She pulled him into another embrace, pleased and amused when he tried to push her away.

“Don’t, you’re all damp!” he complained.

“And whose fault is that, I wonder?” she accused, though it was said with a smile. Dorian snorted and squeezed her shoulder before moving away.

“A fine point,” he assented. “My apologies, amicus, for adding to your discomfort. It was not very gallant of me.”

“Gallant is Cullen’s thing,” Evie reminded him. “You just stick to being magnificent.”

He was smiling, if a little wearily, as he got back up onto their horse, offering a hand to Evie.

“All done here,” he called out to the others, who were standing not too far away, respectfully averting their eyes. “Shall we get going?”

Everyone was quick to disperse and, after a brief word with Cullen to assure him all was well, they were back on the road in no time at all.

The sun was just beginning to rise as they approached the outskirts of the port town of Verulamium. It wasn’t a large settlement by Tevinter standards, established to serve as a stop-off for merchants and traders. The group rode hard through the streets to the docks and Dorian dismounted first to go and negotiate with the captains. Evie saw the Pavus birthright being flashed about. Gold was exchanged and Dorian returned looking resigned but resolute.

“I’ve bartered us passage on a ship that leaves in an hour,” he declared. “I suggest if there’s anything anyone needs to do, they do it now.”

“Where does it dock?” asked Cullen.

“Calleva,” Dorian sighed. “So we’ll have to acquire horses on the other side and ride the rest of the way to Qarinus.”

“What about the horses we have?”

“Sell ‘em,” said Rusty bluntly. “Unless you’re particularly sentimental about your animals? For what it’ll cost to house ‘em of have someone take ‘em back to the capital, you might as well just get a decent bit of gold for ‘em and buy more on the other side.”

Evie frowned, feeling somehow put out by the idea of selling their steeds. They were loyal animals and it seemed unjust to simply cast them aside. Dorian, however, was not so attached and he agreed without a second thought. The dark-haired human and his elven comrade took charge of the beasts, leading them away to find a suitable stable. The elven woman – Evana, as they learned she was called – wandered off to replenish their stock of potions. Evie, Cullen and Dorian were left standing on the docks with Rusty, waiting. Evie put a hand on Dorian’s arm and he gave her a tired smile.

“This is going to horrible, I hope you know that,” he told her quietly. “I am… not adept to sea travel.”

“Then why didn’t we-”

“Because this is faster,” he said, flatly. “I am not about to leave him at the mercy of my mother any longer than necessary.” He gave a humourless laugh. “Oh, the ridiculous things we do for love.”

 

*

 

Evie had only ever travelled by sea once before and that had been when she’d come to Tevinter with her father. Had circumstances been difference, she might have enjoyed it. There was something about the salty breeze running through her hair, the sound of the waves as they slapped and sloshed against the hull of the ship. Dorian, however, was utterly miserable. The gentle rocking of the boat made him horribly sick and he spent most of the time holed up in their tiny cabin, vomiting into a pail. Out of friendship, Evie stayed with him instead of joining the crew up on the deck. The pair of them perched on the edge of the bunk in which Cullen was dozing, Evie rubbing soothing circles on Dorian’s back as he emptied his stomach.

“I swear, this is worse than the time your wretched brother tried to ‘cook’ for me,” he groaned, straightening up and wiping his mouth. Evie offered him his water-skin and he sipped at it tentatively.

“I did tell him to cook that chicken longer,” she chuckled. “Apparently, he didn’t listen to me.”

“Apparently not,” grumbled Dorian. “What is it with you Free Marchers? We have perfectly apt servants, why do you insist on trying to cook yourselves?”

“Yes, Maker forbid we be able to fend for ourselves,” Evie smirked, which earned her a roll of the eyes from her dear friend.

They sat in silence for a moment, listening to the sounds of the surf outside and the gentle, muffled breaths of Cullen sleeping behind them.

“Do you suppose he’s alright?” Dorian asked quietly. Evie bit her lip. Maker, how could she possibly know? She felt certain he wasn’t dead but that was all she could be sure of.

“He has to be,” she whispered. “Why else would she take him instead of killing him?”

The Tevinter gave her a dark look. “That is precisely what concerns me,” he muttered. “Knowing my mother, it’s likely nothing good.”

“We can’t think about that right now,” insisted Evie. “Maker’s breath Dorian, we can’t torture ourselves over what might be happening, it’s not going to help. We just have to focus on getting there as soon as we can.”

“I know,” Dorian sighed. “Kaffas I’m no good at this.”

Evie smiled reassuringly and was about to tell him that, really, no-one was. However, he gave a groan and then he was hunched over the pail again, being miserably sick.                               

It took them a little over a day to cross the Nocem Sea. By the time they docked in Calleva, Dorian was positively green. He’d spent the journey intermittently throwing up, sleeping and silently fretting. He was no less determined for it, however, and he was up on deck, waiting, as the captain brought their ship into the harbour. Cullen and Evie stood beside him, the redhead feeling plenty nauseated herself as the dockside grew closer and closer.

“Can I trust you to gather supplies whilst we go off in search of mounts?” Dorian asked of Rusty, who’d appeared at their side to watch them dock.

“We’ll sort it,” the gruff dwarf muttered. “It shouldn’t take long at all. We won’t need much – it’s less than a day’s ride out of here.”

“I have no idea what’s waiting for us,” sighed Dorian. “If you wish to turn back now, I can’t say I’d blame you.”

“Not a chance,” Rusty growled. “I didn’t get into this business because it’s easy work, lad. I’ve not lost a client yet and I ain’t about to start now.”

Evie smiled, amused at the way the dwarf had gone from calling Dorian ‘sir’ to ‘lad’. Apparently emptying someone’s sick pail granted one certain privileges. Her heart was thundering as the ship was brought neatly into port, a gangway thrown up from the jetty. The captain wished them luck as they disembarked and the group split up to secure the supplies for the last leg of their journey.

The mounts they procured were of a better quality than any of them had expected to find. They rode hard out of Calleva, stopping only when absolutely necessary, even going so far as to eat on the go. When the horses tired, they got off and walked them instead of stopping altogether, and any talk of sleep was out of the question.

Night had long since fallen by the time they approached the Pavus estate. Evie’s heart was in her throat, her mouth dry with fear and anticipation. Her hands tightened over Dorian’s on the reins and he squeezed back, his fingers cold and clammy. Cautious, they followed the path that skirted the high, white walls of the estate.

“Be wary,” Dorian warned them, tersely. “It might not seem so but there are plenty of unpleasant surprises in store for anyone foolish enough to attack this place.”

It came as a surprise, then, that the gates were open, guards with torches flanking the posts and eyeing them as they passed. They made absolutely no move to stop them, which only made Evie more fearful.

“What’s going on?” she whispered, as they galloped up the long path towards the house. “Why are they just letting us walk right in?”

Dorian didn’t answer her and she couldn’t see his face. She could, however, feel the tension in his body. Glancing wildly across to Cullen, who was riding alongside them, she saw her worry reflected in his tight expression and it only made her panic more. Something was very wrong.

A man and a woman were waiting for them at the top of the palatial steps. Evie very much expected to see Halward and Aquinea but, as they ground to a halt before them, Evie recognised the man for who he was. Her heart almost stopped in her chest.

“Father?” she hissed. “What in the Void are you doing here?”

Standing at Bann Josef’s side, the Pavus matriarch flashed them all a nasty smile.

“We suspected you’d come running after Enzo’s little slip up,” she sneered, and Dorian slipped out of the saddle, looking positively murderous. “What a pity you arrived too late.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ;)
> 
> *Verulamium and Calleva are both actual names of British Roman settlements. One of them in particular is very close to my heart.


	51. A Horrifying Discovery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies in advance for any errors. I have no WiFi so I'm doing this on my phone.

Chapter XLVI 

A Horrifying Discovery

 

 

“Where is he? Where is Max?!”

Cullen had to jump down from his own mount to hold Dorian back. The mage was a hurricane of fury, his hands and arms bristling with sparks as he called on his power. It made him want to recoil but Cullen knew that if there was any chance of them getting Max back safely, they couldn’t start a fight. At least, not just yet.

Bann Trevelyan – Evie’s father, and the man who had once threated to have him killed to keep his daughter from seeing him – turned to Aquinea.

“It’s worse than we thought,” he said mildly. “I have to confess, I though your methods were a little melodramatic but it appears you were right to be concerned.”

“What are you talking about?” snapped Evie. “Father, why are you here and where in the Void is my brother?”

Her voice crescendoed until she was shouting, brow screwed up and cheeks tinged pink in fury. She took a step towards the marble stairway but Cullen shook his head. She hesitated.

“Compose yourselves,” Aquinea sneered, her cold, grey eyes – so very unlike her son’s – glowering down at them. “He is alive. If you are willing control yourselves, perhaps we can step inside and discuss this little… predicament.”

Dorian let an almost hysterical laugh. “Predicament?” he hissed. “You have the gall to call this a predicament! Fasta vass, Mother, you kidnapped my-”

Cullen’s eyes opened wide in shock. Dorian managed to catch himself but the word hung like miasma in the air around them. Aquinea’s eyes narrowed.

“Your what, exactly?” she muttered, words laced with venom, eyes flashing, as though daring him to say it. It was a sign of how long he’d put up with the woman that Dorian didn’t even flinch.

“I suppose there’s no point in being coy now, is there Mother?” he replied bitterly. “You must know. What am I saying? Of course you know! Why else would have gone to the trouble of kidnapping my l-”

“Enough!” the woman snapped. “Not out here. Get inside and we will discuss this. Just you three,” she added, gesturing vaguely towards her son, Evie and Cullen. “The riff-raff can wait outside.”

“I think not!” argued Dorian. “They were kind enough to escort us here, I will not see them tethered in the grounds like flea-ridden dogs.”

To Cullen’s surprise, Rusty simply shook his head. “Leave it, lad,” he murmured, and he nodded to his fellows, who gathered around him. “Just do as she says.” When Dorian turned, aghast, to stare at him, the dwarf simply shrugged. “She’s got Max. If we want him back safe… well, we ain’t in much of a position to argue.”

The mage looked like he might continue to protest. Cullen, however, touched the man on the arm and discreetly shook his head. If anything were to happen to them, if they were to venture inside and not return, at least Rusty and his crew could escape to raise the alarm.

Sighing, Dorian relented and he approached the steps to his family home.

“Happy now?” he snapped. “You have my undivided attention. You had better hope that you’ve not harmed a hair on his head or, Maker help me, that you are my mother will count for nothing.”

Aquinea simply smirked and turned neatly to lead the way into the house. Cullen caught Evie’s eyes as they followed. Now that her initial anger had receded, she was pale with worry and Cullen could see her hands trembling. However, her stride and the set of her jaw was determined. When she met his gaze, her eyes narrowed with purpose and he gave her a grim smile. Maxwell was alive, that was something. In the hands of these two, however, it might not count for much.

The Pavus estate was everything Cullen could ever have expected. Vast, grand and glittering but also cold, impersonal and immensely intimidating. The blonde thought it felt more like a temple than a family home and he supposed, in a way, it was. Portraits of Pavus’ past lined the walls of the grand vestibule, glowering down at them, an homage in art to the precious family name. Aquinea led them into a smaller room off to the right – a drawing room, it appeared – and she and her accomplice took a seat in front of the fire as though there were doing nothing more ordinary than sharing an after-dinner drink. She motioned for them to do the same but Dorian cursed at her and she merely shrugged, looking viciously amused.

“Come on then!” he demanded. “Out with it! What in the name of the Maker’s arse is going on?”

“Why are you here, Father?” asked Evie again, quietly.

“It seems you already know,” replied Bann Josef, tartly. When Evie only frowned, he rolled his eyes. “I am here because Aquinea informed me of the torrid affair your brother is conducting with your husband. We both agreed something had to be done, seeing as you apparently haven’t the pride to put a stop to it yourself.” He threw his daughter a foul look, as though she were something offensive stuck to the sole of his shoe. Cullen’s blood boiled. “Do you have any idea how much shame it would bring upon both our families – what it would do to my business – if anyone were to find out?”

“If anyone were to…!” Dorian spluttered indignantly. “I don’t even know you found out about it! We were hardly skipping through the streets of Minrathous, holding hands! How long have you known?”

Aquinea gave her son a nasty smirk.

“Since Carastes,” she hissed. “My handmaid stopped by Gereon’s villa to deliver something for your father and she saw you two disappear into the bedroom together. She listened at the door, Dorian. A dolt she may be but it apparently didn’t take much wit to figure out what you two were doing.”

Dorian paled, obviously shocked, but he managed an ironic snort.

“So all this time, you knew,” he muttered, shaking his head. “All the time you’ve been hounding us about heirs and dropping in… what, were you trying to catch us out?”

“I admit, I hoped it was a one off,” the woman shrugged. “You lashing out, as you’re so prone to doing. But it soon became clear that something more lingering was going on.”

“So you tried to have Max killed,” Cullen growled, unable to help himself.

Bann Trevelyan whipped his head around, staring at Cullen like he’d only just noticed the blonde was there. His eyes narrowed and Cullen wondered if he was piecing it together, if he recognised his face. However, the news that his apparent ally had tried to murder his son took precedence.

“You tried to have my son killed?” the Bann asked, and he voice was deadly quiet. “Is this true?”

Aquinea, somehow, didn’t so much as flinch. She simply shrugged arrogantly and had the nerve to smirk.

“He was becoming a problem,” she responded lightly. At his snarl of rage, she actually laughed. “Oh come now, don’t be so offended,” she chuckled. “He turned out to be tougher than I anticipated so I had to change tack.”

“You utter bitch!” Evie cried. Her father jumped to his feet, positively quivering with rage.

“Treacherous snake!” he bellowed. “I should have known better than to trust a Tevinter sow like you! You’re all the same!”

Aquinea’s eyes flashed dangerously and Cullen felt the air around them prickle with the threat of impending magic.

“Watch your tongue,” she ground out, menacingly. “You dare speak to me in such a manner?! Do not forget it is I who put you were you are and I can just as easily have you and your backwater family exiled back to the Free Marches! You would be nothing without my influence!”

Josef Trevelyan could only stutter, opening and closing his mouth like a fish. Angry red spots bloomed on his cheeks and he seethed, though he said nothing. Aquinea snorted.

“Enough of this!” snapped Dorian. “Where in the Void is Maxwell? I demand to see him!”

“Relax, Dorian,” his mother cooed, mockingly. “Maxwell is resting right now. The ritual took an awful lot out of him. It seems to have been a success but I suppose only time will tell.”

“Ritual?” Dorian whispered, and his grey eyes widened in horror. “What do you… No. No, tell me you didn’t.” His voice cracked painfully and, even in the dim light of the fire, Cullen could see tears forming in his eyes. He looked like he might be sick. “Maker’s breath!” he breathed. “Max!”

Frantic, Cullen glanced to Evie, seeing the fear that was dawning anew on her face. Dorian tore out of the drawing room and the pair of them followed him. Cullen’s heart was racing in his chest and he stomach felt like lead beneath it. He could hear Aquinea and Bann Josef calling out after them but it was a token protest, surely, as none of them seemed particularly bothered about pursuing. Evie and Cullen ran after Dorian, who was throwing doors open haphazardly and calling out Maxwell’s name. He checked a parlour, a study, a music room before coming to a pair of larger, grander double doors and wrenching them open.

“Max,” he began but his lover’s name fell dead on his tongue. Cullen watched his eyes widen, watched them fill with tears. “No,” he whispered. “Maker, no, please, not this!” And he ran full pelt into the room.

Evie tore after him before Cullen could stop her.

“Wait!” he called. “Evie, don’t!”

He was only a handful of paces behind but he heard her scream before he’d even crossed the threshold. Pulse hammering in his ears, Cullen sprinted into the room after her.

What he saw was like a scene out of his worst nightmares. The room – clearly a dining hall – had been stripped of its usual furnishings. A long, narrow table draped in black cloth stood at one end, upon which lay the blood-soaked remains of what appeared to be a male elf. He’d been cut from hip to sternum, his entrails removed by Maker knew what. His blood splattered the walls and floor around him, scenting the air and making Cullen’s stomach lurch horribly. On the perfectly polished floor before the makeshift altar was a bedroll. In that bedroll, surrounded by a circle of markings written in Elven blood, was Maxwell. He appeared unharmed, though he was unconscious, but Cullen knew better than to presume as much.

Dorian fell to his knees at his lover’s side, trembling, tears pouring down his handsome face.

“Amatus, no,” he wept. “Maker, what have they done to you? Wake up! Please wake up!”

Evie was standing a further few feet away, apparently transfixed with horror. The blonde was at her side in an instant and he pulled her into his arms, where she crumbled like dry sand.

“My brother!” she sobbed. “Cullen, what’s wrong with him?!”

“He’s breathing,” whimpered Dorian. “Kaffas, Maxwell, wake up!” He shook his lover as hard as he dared but still Maxwell didn’t so much as stir.

Evie was wailing into Cullen’s shoulder and the blonde could feel his own anger smouldering. Even without his powers, without having taken lyrium for months, the scent of blood magic was stirring at his Templar instincts. Nausea swirled in his stomach and the hairs on the back of his neck were standing on end. He longed to lash out, to silence every little spark of magic within a thirty foot radius. It was futile, of course; he hadn’t been able to access his powers since he’d left the Free Marches.

Footsteps on the marble made them all whirl around. Aquinea’s flawless profile appeared backlit in the doorway, her gaze like ice as it fell upon her son at Max’s side.

“What did you do?” Dorian snarled. “You fucking bitch, what did you do to him?”

There was a crackle of magic and the mage struck like a cobra, firing a volley of lightning bolts at his mother in sheer fury. Not to Cullen’s surprise, Aquinea simply brushed the attack lazily aside. The lightning scorched sizzling holes in the panelled wall but left her otherwise unharmed and looking distinctly unimpressed.

“You know better than to lash out like that,” she remarked in a bored voice. “Highly ineffective.”

“WHAT DID YOU DO?!” bellowed Dorian again.

“We simply made him a little more compliant,” Bann Josef said tersely, appearing at Aquinea’s side. “When he wakes, he will have no memory of you. In fact, as far as he knows, he is engaged to a lovely young woman your mother picked out for him. Her family are very influential in the West.”

Evie uttered a little cry against Cullen’s shoulders. Dorian looked like he might be sick. He fell to his knees at Max’s side, gathering the man up in his arms and clutching his limp form to his chest.

“No, no, no! Please, no!” he sobbed. “Not this! Maxwell, I beg you, please be alright!”

A pair of pale, wide-eyed slaves slipped in the door and made their silent way over to the makeshift altar. Dorian didn’t pay them the slightest bit of attention as they wrapped up the remains of the sacrificed elf in the black cloth and carried him away.

“Alas, poor Enzo,” his mother said, insincerely. “It’s a pity it had to come to that but, really, what could we do? He nearly ruined everything with his little slip of the tongue.”

Dorian didn’t acknowledge her. His face was pressed into Maxwell’s hair, shoulders trembling as he wept. Cullen watched him breaking and it pained him to see as much as it did in Evie. His shirt was already soaked with the tears of his lover and she was still quaking in the circle of his arms.

Josef Trevelyan was watching her curiously, his calculating eyes flicking back and forth between his daughter and Cullen. The blonde could practically see his mind working and he wondered if the man had even the slightest suspicion of who he really was.

“Why isn’t he waking?” whispered Dorian from down on the floor. He lay Maxwell reverently back on the bedroll and kissed his forehead, much to the obvious irritation of his mother. Wiping his eyes, he straightened up and faced the woman, repeating his question in a voice as sharp as a silverite blade. “I said, why isn’t he waking?”

“He’ll wake when I wish it,” Aquinea shrugged. “Though, I suppose we should rouse him about now, check how well the spell has taken.”

“It’ll be seamless, you say?” asked Bann Trevelyan. “He won’t remember a thing about your son other than he is my daughter’s husband?”

“Not a thing,” the Pavus matriarch smiled and she took a few steps towards where Dorian was cradling Maxwell. The mage recoiled, pulling his amatus ever tighter to his chest. Aquinea rolled her eyes.

“Oh, don’t be so dramatic, Dorian!” she chided. “If you want him to wake up, you’re going to have to stop guarding him like a Mabari. Really, you’ve been spending far too much time with that Ferelden guard of yours. As dashing as he is” she added, with a smirk over her shoulder at Cullen. The blonde felt his stomach churn unpleasantly.

“Ferelden?” Bann Josef muttered, pensively. “I thought you didn’t look Tevene. What’s your name, young man?”

Cullen opened his mouth to answer but Aquinea responded for him. “Haydn, is it not?” she purred, and Cullen’s brows shot up in surprise. “What, my dear? I never forget a pretty face. Even a low born one. I’m surprised at you, Dorian,” she smirked. “I’d have thought having such a treat following you around all day would have cured you of this one.”

“I love Maxwell,” Dorian hissed, which only earned him a scoff from his mother and an uttered “Sweet Maker” from the Bann in the doorway.

“My dear boy, what do you know of love?” Aquinea snorted.

Batting his hands away, she began to cast a spell over Max’s sleeping form. A mist of glowing scarlet materialised in the air before him and began to slowly seep in to his skin. Cullen watched, his breath still in his chest. Even Evie looked up at the flicker of magic, staring apprehensively through wet and swollen eyes. Dorian was biting his lip so hard it was bleeding. His eyes were shining, reflecting the eerie red light of his mother’s magic, his tears looking just as much like blood as the trickle of ruby that he’d smeared across his chin.

After a few long, tense moments, the red mist dissipated and Maxwell stirred in his bedroll.

“Max!” Evie cried, and she made towards him. Cullen pulled her back, however, watching him carefully for a reaction. He’d seen blood magic go wrong and he wasn’t about to take it for granted that the man wouldn’t up and attack them – even if it was Evie’s brother.

“Just wait, love,” he whispered in her ear when she struggled. “Give him a minute.”

Evie nodded, albeit reluctantly, and she gripped his hand tightly as Max’s eyes began to flutter.

“Maker… what the fuck,” they hear him croak, reaching up to press a shaky hand to his forehead. “I feel like I’ve been stampeded by a herd of druffalo.”

“Oh Maxwell!” Evie whimpered again and this time, Cullen let her go. She flew to her brother’s side, throwing her arms around his middle and sobbing. Max cracked his eyes open and peered down his chest at her.

“Evie?” he muttered. “What in the name of Andraste’s tits is going on?”

“You had a rather nasty fall, Maxwell,” Bann Trevelyan said, before anyone else could speak. “You’ve had us all quite worried. Livia is beside herself - she’s on her way here as we speak.”

Maxwell groaned and propped himself up on his elbows, looking blearily around the room.

“Livia?” he muttered.

“Yes, son,” Josef nodded. “Your fiancé, remember?”

Frowning, Max glanced over at his father, regarding him with half-opened eyes.

“What are you talking about?” he croaked. “I don’t have a bloody fiancé.”

The Bann’s eyes widened. Both Dorian and Evie let out identical sounds of triumph, throwing themselves at Max in relief and knocking him onto his back. The rogue chuckled, albeit in a pained sort of way, and he patted his sister’s head.

“Not that I don’t appreciate your enthusiasm,” he smiled, “but could you and your handsome friend stop crushing my ribs? I feel like I’ve gone nine rounds with a fucking Qunari.”

The room fell suddenly deathly silent. Dorian lifted his head slowly, staring at Maxwell with nothing short of horror. “Amatus…” he whispered, in a voice that sounded on the verge of breaking.

“What do you mean?” said Evie frantically. “Max, you know Dorian!”

Maxwell simply shrugged. “’Fraid not,” he replied. “Though I'd certainly like to,” he added, winking in Dorian’s direction, oblivious to the heartbreak in the mage’s eyes.


	52. Escape from House Pavus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dorian is heartbroken but there's no time to grieve yet: they have to get Maxwell to safety.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello you super people. Sorry this is a little late! For those of you not on Tumblr with me, I've had two poorly kiddos this week - and now I'm sick too. *disgusted noise* So yeah, I've been a little behind schedule. Thank you for your patience though! And for not lynching me after that last chapter or two. ;) I promise I'm not evil! Everything will eventually be well!

Chapter XLVII

Escape from House Pavus

 

 

It was as though he’d been punched – that was the only way Dorian could describe how he felt. All the air had been knocked from him in great rush and he was struggling to regain it. His heart was fluttering like a caged bird. A painful lump had formed in his throat and he wanted to scream, to rage, to sob, _anything_ to vent the tide of emotion rising within him. And yet he couldn’t. It was what he imagined being cut off from the Fade felt like: numb, suffocating, terrifying.

Rising on trembling legs, he turned away from Maxwell, ignoring his lover’s questions of “What’s going on?” and “Why is your friend so upset?”. Slowly, he turned his head towards his mother, whose haughty face was arranged in a careful expression of neutrality.

“Well, I hope you’re happy,” he hissed. “The man I love – the man who loved _me_ – has no idea who I am. Are you pleased with yourself? Are you, you fucking bitch?”

“Dorian,” Evie whimpered hoarsely from behind her. Dorian, however, paid her beseeching tone no mind.

“Why?” he asked in a plaintive whisper. “Why could you not just let me have this one thing? Did I not do what you and Father wanted? I married the girl! Maker’s breath, I was even working on getting her pregnant so you could have your precious heir to mould, seeing as I was such a bitter disappointment!” He glowered at his Mother, his voice rising with his temper. It didn’t help that she was just staring at him in that cold, detached way of hers, like he was a mildly interesting bug and nothing more. It sparked his ire like oil on a bonfire. “Why?!” he demanded in a bellow. “We were being discreet! What harm were we doing?! Does being married to Father make you that fucking miserable that you can’t bear to see anyone happy?”

Aquinea’s face contorted at that and Dorian felt a rush of vindictive delight that he’d managed to crack her icy façade. He took a step forward, lighting crackling around his fingers instinctively. He saw her barrier shimmer into life but she made no move to stop him. She merely stood there, her arms folded, her brow raised in distaste.

“Surely we can fix this!” Evie exclaimed, desperately. “If it can be done, then there has to be a way for it to be undone!”

“And risk making it worse?” Dorian snapped, whirling on her. “Risk turning your brother in a drooling vegetable, is that what you want?”

The redhead recoiled, her green eyes wide and wet with hurt. Immediately, Dorian regretting lashing out at her. To make matters worse, Maxwell frowned coldly up at him and the sight made his heart damn near shatter in his chest.

“Hey,” he said quietly. “I haven’t the faintest idea what’s going on here but there’s no need to talk to her like that. I don’t care how close you two are.”

The Tevinter bit his lip against the urge to howl and he nodded.

“You’re right, of course,” he sighed. “My apologies, amicus. I should be directing my anger at you, shouldn’t I?” he added in a sneer, diverting his attention back to his mother. “Have you no care for anything other than your own agenda? You make me sick!”

Lighting sparked from his fingers again and, this time, he pulled at the Fade, fuelling it, bolstering it, until it was arcing menacingly between both of his palms. Aquinea smirked, her arrogant eyes daring him. Cullen, however, placed himself smoothly between them.

“Dorian,” he warned, and his tone was calm, placating. “Perhaps this isn’t the best time-”

“Actually, I think this is the perfect time,” scowled Dorian. “She did blood magic on him, Cullen! Blood magic!”

He glowered at his mother but was surprised to find her looking at him in confusion. Bann Trevelyan was goggling over her shoulder, his face rapidly turning an ugly shade of puce.

“Cullen?” the Bann repeated, and turned to stare intently at the blonde. “As in _Cullen Rutherford_? Knight-Commander Cullen Rutherford?”

 Dorian’s mouth dropped open in horror and, not for the first time that night, he felt as though he’d been plunged into icy cold water.

“Oh Maker!” he whispered, and he whirled back to Cullen, who was wincing but holding his ground. Evie, on the other hand, looked pale and stricken.  “I’m sorry,” Dorian found himself babbling. “Maker, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to! It just slipped out!”

“It’s alright, Dorian,” the former-Templar smiled wanly. “You’ve just had a terrible shock and I think he would have figured it out eventually.” He turned to face Josef Trevelyan and gave the man a cold, hard look. “That’s right,” he affirmed. “I am Cullen Stanton Rutherford of Honnleath, former Knight-Commander of Ostwick. It’s nice to finally meet the man who threated to have me murdered.”

Trevelyan scoffed, looking frankly apoplectic with fury. However, much to Dorian’s surprise, it was Aquinea he rounded on.

“You absolute cretin!” he accused. “Did I not tell you about the Knight-Commander? Have you been so absorbed in your plots to kill my son that you forget to mention the mysterious blonde Fereldan staying with them?!”

“How dare you?!” Aquinea screeched. “They said he was their personal guard and, given the attempts on their lives, why would I have questioned it?”

“Perhaps if you spend a little less time at the bottom of a wine bottle, you might have noticed!” Bann Josef snapped.

Aquinea’s cheeks flushed red beneath her olive complexion. Her eyes narrowed and the air around her grew thick with mounting pressure of her mana. Dorian couldn’t recall hearing anyone – other than himself and, occasionally, his father – talk to his mother in such a way. He took an unconscious step backward and jerked in surprise when a hand landed on his shoulder.

“We need to get out of here before this turns uglier,” Cullen murmured, as the two parents began to bicker in earnest. “I know you’re angry at your mother, Dorian, but our priority it to get Max safely away.”

Dorian nodded. “I know,” he sighed. “I…  Maker, let’s just get him away from this. Then we can decide what in the Void we’re going to do.”

Cullen nodded. The blonde was right, of course, and Dorian knew that. His usually bright mind felt like a ship mired in fog but he knew that they had to at least get away from the house. He turned to where Evie and Cullen were helping Max to his feet. The appraising look he got from the rogue made him want to weep anew. Where was the warmth? Where was the sparkle in those gorgeous green eyes, the mischievous lilt of his generous lips? It was like looking at a stranger.

Shaking his head, he began to make his way to the door, knowing full-well that the others were following right behind him. He wasn’t surprised when his mother and Bann Trevelyan put their argument on hold to accost them.

“You can’t be serious?” Josef laughed snidely. “You don’t honestly think we’re just going to let you leave, do you?”

“Why not?” Evie snarled from over Dorian’s shoulder. “You’ve all but got what you wanted, can’t you just let us be?”

The Bann shook his head in obvious disbelief and his calculating eyes fell upon Cullen.

“I told you what would happen, Evelyn,” he sighed, in a voice full of mock remorse. “I can’t allow you to keep flouncing about with some low-born Fereldan Templar.”

“I’d like to see you stop her,” sneered Dorian. He pulled his staff from his back – heard Evie doing the same – and watched as his mother and the Bann stiffened in anticipation. “I had a feeling it would come to this,” he muttered. “Cullen, will you please take Max out of here via the main foyer? Evie and I will handle this.”

He glanced back over his shoulder at the blonde and saw Evie working hard to reassure her brother that everything was alright.

“Please, Max,” she entreated him. “Go with Cullen – I promise, you can trust him. I’ll explain all of this to you once we’re out of here but please, for the love of the Maker, leave this to us.”

Out of sorts, Maxwell mercifully conceded, and he and Cullen stepped forward together.

“Oh, really?” Aquinea snorted. “Do you honestly think-”

Her words were cut off by a magical bang. Evie and Dorian had used their mind blasts simultaneously, catching the pair off guard and knocking them off their feet.

“Go! Both of you!” Dorian cried, before either his mother or the Bann regained enough faculty to stop them. Cullen was quick on his feet, leading Maxwell in a sprint out of the dining room doors. Aquinea sent a blast of ice after them but she was too late; it merely glanced off the doorframe and struck one her grandmother’s portraits. 

“Oh dear, Father will be most upset,” commented Dorian dryly. “One less portrait of that old bat to put up with.”

“Enough, Dorian,” his mother spat, as she got to her feet. “As usual, you are lashing out like a child. You should consider yourself fortunate. The very ritual I used tonight, your Father had planned to use on you. Luckily for you, you saw sense and agree to marry before it came to such drastic measures.”

Dorian blinked, feeling for all the world like he’d just been slapped around the face.

“You were… you going to…” he whispered, unable to form the words for sheer horror. He’d always known there was little his father wouldn’t do for his legacy but he’d assumed blood magic would not be one of them. ‘The last resort of a weak mind’ he’d always called it.

“You’re monsters,” Evie hissed from beside him. “All of you! How could you even think of doing such a thing to your own sons?”

“Oh be quiet, you silly little girl,” was Aquinea’s disdainful response. “What could a foreigner possibly know about the importance of our bloodlines? I wouldn’t expect you to understand.”

“I understand better than you think,” Evie murmured. “Which is more than I can say for you!”

She lashed out suddenly, sending a fireball hurting towards her father’s feet. It exploded as it hit the marble, sending the man flying back with force. He hit the wall up high with an unpleasant crunch and slid, motionless, to the floor.

“Fasta vass, Evie!” Dorian cried, shocked but not precisely displeased by her sudden ferocity.

Evie merely shrugged. “He’s not dead,” she offered. “Though that’s going to hurt when he comes to. No less than he deserves.”

Her emerald eyes swivelled towards Aquinea, who had already raised her barrier and was smirking at them from behind a shimmering wall of translucent blue.

“Congratulations,” she said, sarcastically. “You managed knock out an untrained and unarmed man several decades your senior. You must feel so accomplished. But I’m afraid you won’t find me so easy a target.”

Dorian’s hands tightened around the grip of his staff. Perturbingly, he knew she spoke the truth. Aquinea Thalrassian had been chose for his father precisely because of her magical prowess. He’d never imagined he’d have to face off his own mother but he thought he knew how he might surpass her.

“Evie,” he said quietly. “Your spirit blade, my dear.”

Evie turned to him, her brows raised in surprise. At the expression on his face she simply shrugged and replaced her staff on her back. Then she conjured her spirit blade, beautiful and ice blue, glittering like a precious stone in the dark room.

“Pretty,” Aquinea remarked. “But will it help you?”

She moved with surprising agility, sending a volley of fireballs right for Evie’s face. The redhead reacted at once and deflected them just in time. Dorian took advantage of his mother’s distraction to send a static cage her way. She tried to nullify it with a spell of her own but it was only partly-effective, the cage rooting one side of her body to the spot. Evie pressed her advantage and, to Dorian’s utmost surprise, dealt his mother a ringing blow with her right fist. 

“That’s for kidnapping my brother, you miserable cunt!” she snarled, and she brought the pommel of her weapon down for a second attack. “And _that_ is for trying to fucking poison him!”

Aquinea reeled, falling to her knees, blood pouring from her nose and a split lip. Her eyes widened as Evie raised her blade again and she lashed out with a blast of ice that knocked the redhead clean off her feet.

“Evie!” Dorian cried. He wanted to run to her but his mother was already gathering herself. Dorian threw her back down to the ground with another mind blast. “Don’t you dare!” he shouted and, without even thinking, he pressed the blade end of his staff against her throat. Aquinea stilled, though she was watching him closely with shrewd, dark eyes.

“Go on then, Dorian,” she said, quietly. “Kill me… if you can.”

Dorian snarled. “Shut up!” he spat, and he pressed the cold metal of the blade against her throat, watching a bead of blood bubble up as he nicked the skin. He glance over hastily his shoulder and saw Evie getting to her feet, brushing frost off her clothes. “Thank the Maker,” he sighed. “Are you alright?”

“Nothing I can’t handle,” Evie muttered. She moved slowly to Dorian’s side, limping a little and bleeding from a scrape on her temple. However, she seemed mostly unharmed and she smiled a grim little smile to show him so. Placated, Dorian turned back to his mother, who was watching him with venom in her eyes. Every ounce of anger, of hatred, towards the woman surged to the surface. She’d tried to kill Maxwell, actually succeeded in removing all memory of their love. She’d have stood by and let her own son be altered too, he had no doubt. Maker, he’d known things with his parents were dire but truly, to hate him so much... it was like a lance through his heart. She deserved to die. Fasta vass, it wouldn’t be a stretch to say the world would be better off without her, or so he thought. His trembling hands tightened around his staff and he pressed the blade a fraction closer to her throat. A couple more droplets of blood appeared against her skin, trickling over the polished silverite. It could be quick… clean… a greater mercy than she’d surely have granted Max.

“What are waiting for, Dorian?” Aquinea rasped. “You have me right where you want me.”

Dorian scowled, the blade shaking against her throat as his hands trembled. He wanted to. Maker, he wanted to so much! But he wasn’t her. He wasn’t his Father. This was not how he solved his problems. With a tear rolling down his cheek, he pulled his staff blade away from his mother’s neck.

“No,” he whispered. “I will not become you.”

Aquinea just about had time to look surprised before Dorian brought the blunt end of his staff swinging back around. It connected heavily with the side of her head, knocking her unconscious and sending her sprawling to the floor. A single, choked sob escaped Dorian’s throat. He clapped his hand over his mouth, screwing his eyes against the tears that finally threated to fall.

“Dorian,” Evie breathed, pulling him into her warm arms, her fingers cradling the back of his head. Dorian clutched at her waist but he shook his head, fighting back his emotions.

“It’s fine,” he managed, though his voice was anything but. “She deserved far worse but I won’t lower myself.”

“If you need a moment-” began Evie tenderly, but the mage shook his head.

“No,” he insisted. “No, there isn’t time now. We need to find the others and get out of here first. There’ll be time to drink ourselves into a stupor later.”

It was a relief that Evie simply nodded, though he didn’t miss her wiping away tears as she pulled back from him.

They made their way hastily out of the dining hall. Dorian paused to lock the double-doors behind him, tucking the key into his robes and casting a couple of quick wards over the polished wood.

“With any luck, that will delay them coming after us,” he declared. Evie smiled tiredly at him and the pair of them jogged back to the foyer as fast as Evie’s injured leg could manage.

They found Cullen and Maxwell waiting by the doors, the rogue pulling his blade out of the body of a dead gate guard. He glanced up at Dorian as they approached but the Tevinter didn’t meet his eyes. He couldn’t: Maker, it was just too painful.

“Are you both alright?” Cullen asked, the moment he saw them. He noticed Evie’s limp and he was quick to her side, inspecting her face with frantic amber eyes.

“We’re fine, Cullen,” she assured him. “Just a couple of scrapes and bruises, nothing serious. Are you?”

“We ran into a bit of trouble from your family’s guard,” Cullen explained. “Nothing we couldn’t handle though, especially not once we had help.”

Cullen nodded in the direction of the open door. Out on the steps, finishing off the last of the household guard, were Max’s faithful entourage. Rusty the dwarf caught Dorian’s eye and he nodded grimly. Dorian nodded in return.

“Alright,” he muttered. “Well, we need to get out of here. If we’re fast, we can be on a ship back to Minrathous before those two even come round.”

“And then what?” Evie whispered. “How are we going to fix this?”

Dorian could only shake his head. For once, his extensive magical training did not come up trumps: he didn’t have the slightest clue where to begin.


	53. A Tentative Promise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Safely away from the Pavus Estate, Dorian has chance to deal with what's happened. Evie is there to help him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! This little writer-bug had been stuck in bed for a few days so I've used the down time to bring you a rare mid-week update. :)
> 
> This one is chock full of feels so prepare yourselves! ;)

Chapter XLVIII

A Tentative Promise

 

 

By the time they got the coast, they’d missed a ship by less than an hour. Luckily, there was another due to sail for Minrathous soon but it meant waiting around for a while.

Evie left the men – and Evana – to refresh their supplies for the trip back and instead wandered around the docks. Dorian had disappeared that way the moment she’d come back from securing them passage. He’s been incredibly quiet the whole ride back and, whilst she didn’t blame him, she was getting worried.

She found him soon enough, sitting on the edge of a jetty with his legs dangling over the water. There was a bottle of something amber-coloured in in his right hand – and it was already half empty. Sighing sadly, Evie strolled up to him and sat down heavily beside him. In the light of the rising sun, she could see the tear tracks staining his golden cheeks. It almost made her want to cry herself.

“He doesn’t remember any of it, does he?” he asked her hoarsely, after a moment. “Dancing together at Carnevale? The first time he told me he loved me? Holding my hand when he thought I was dying?”

His voice cracked painfully at that and several fat tears leaked from his stormy, grey eyes. He shuddered and Evie threw her arms around him, cuddling him tightly to her chest.

“Dorian,” she whispered, and she kissed his hair out of habit. She’d seen him in pain far too often lately and it was horrible. He was her closest friend – her only friend, really, these days – and she couldn’t stand to see her friends hurting.

“How could she do this to me?” he whispered against her skin. “I should have fucking killed her when I had the chance.”

Evie frowned. “You’re not that person, Dorian,” she reminded him. “It’s why I love you so dearly.”

Dorian made a broken sound of distress and he wept all the harder. His shoulders shook and Evie could feel her skin growing rapidly slick with his tears. Even with his face buried in her chest, she could smell the whiff of alcohol coming off him. He wasn’t quite drunk but he certainly wasn’t sober either and she felt sure it wasn’t helping his emotional state. Evie made a mental note to get him to surrender the booze later before they boarded the ship.

“We’ll fix this, you know,” she promised him, pressing a kiss to the crown of his head. “We’ll find a way to get his memories back. In the meantime…perhaps you can make new ones? He might not remember you,” she added hastily, as Dorian raised his head to fix her with a stony look, “but he’s still Maxwell. He’s still _drawn_ to you! Maker, he hasn’t taken his eyes off you all the way here.”     

To her relief, Dorian gave a watery laugh at that. “Well, of course he hasn’t,” he chuckled. “He’s not lost his sight. Though I can’t imagine I look particularly enchanting after all this.” He ran a hand through his hair and Evie smiled.

“You’re a little soggy,” she admitted, wiping at his tear-stained cheeks with her thumb. “Still magnificent, though.”

He smiled and Evie placed a kiss on the tip of his nose, grinning when he laughed. Dorian cupped her cheek and pressed his forehead affectionately to hers.

“For all my objections to our marriage, I am eternally glad for the day you walked into my life,” he uttered sweetly, and Evie felt her own eyes fill with tears. “I couldn’t ask for a better friend.”

The redhead bit her lip, trying- and failing – to keep her emotions in check. “Maker’s breath, Dorian,” she sighed, with a self-deprecating little laugh. “Now you’ve got me at it.”

She dashed away her tears hastily with the back of her hand. Dorian pulled away from her, his slightly bloodshot gaze wandering back towards the dockside.

“Hm,” he smiled, in a tired sort of way. “Your Templar is watching us. Shall we give him a little show, I wonder?”

Surprised, Evie followed his glance. Cullen was indeed standing back on solid ground, leaning against a building as he observed them both. His lips curved playfully upwards when Evie caught his eye and Evie beamed back, feeling her stomach flip with giddy excitement. Ever shrewd, it did not go unnoticed by Dorian.

“You have a good man there, my dear,” he noted, gently. “He loves you deeply.”

Evie could tell he was trying to keep the note of bitterness out of his voice and she didn’t blame him in the slightest.

“Don’t despair,” she begged of him. “You and Maxwell are perfect for each other. You have to trust that your love will find a way.”

“I hope so,” he whispered. “Maker, I do. I… just need some time, I think, before I can face him again.”

Evie nodded. “I understand,” she assured him. “And I’m certain he will too. Just… don’t drink too much of this in the meantime,” she said, nodding to the half-empty bottle. “Sea-travel makes you sick enough as it is.”

 

*

 

The wind teasing snarls into Evie’s hair was cool and briny and incredibly refreshing. The redhead stood at the bow of the ship, watching the waves slap against the hull. She’d left Dorian in Cullen’s care below deck, desperate for a bit of fresh air. In truth, she also needed to clear her head. Watching Dorian and Max dance around each other in their tiny cabin had been painful. They had barely spoken, though she could see the yearning in her friend’s eyes. Max had eventually left to speak to Rusty and Evie had wandered off not long after, eager to see the sun.

Footsteps behind her alerted her to the presence of another. She glanced over her shoulder, expecting to see one of the ship-hands coming to clear her off deck. She was surprised to see it was Maxwell, his hair free and rippling in the breeze. He looked grim and he slung an arm around her shoulder as he came to stand at her side.

“Much better up here,” he commented. “It was getting a little cramped in that tiny room.”

“It was the best they could offer at short notice,” Evie shrugged. “How are you feeling?”

“My head’s still hammering,” he admitted. “But I can’t say I’m surprised.” He shook his head mournfully. “I’m trying to remember,” he sighed, “but it’s so _patchy_ , Evie. I recall coming here with father to expand the business. I remember you getting married – remember holding your hand in the carriage and yet, when I try to picture your husband, my mind just goes blank.”

Evie blew a despondent sigh out of her nose, staring out across the azure stretch of the ocean.

“I remember travelling a lot,” Max went on, his voice only just audible above the surf. “I remember Rusty and the gang and all the ridiculous drinking games he had me playing. I _vaguely_ remember a palazzo in the capital. It take it it’s yours?”

“And Dorian’s, yes,” Evie nodded. “I imagine that’s hazier… you two spent a lot of time together there, after all.”

Groaning, Max leant on the railing beside her, covering his face with his hands.

“Maker, is it true?” he mumbled, and his green eyes peered through his fingers at her. “Was I really in love with your husband?”

Evie couldn’t help but laugh at that. “It sounds a little absurd when you put it like that,” she chuckled. “We had a standing arrangement. You and Dorian met before we were even betrothed. I knew he didn’t like women when we were wed. Everyone did, not that they cared. I didn’t see any reason to stop you two from being together just because our parents had forced us into wedlock. And yes, you were in love – madly so. In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so happy.”

Maxwell sighed again and he seemed torn between bewilderment and amusement. “Damn,” he muttered. “Well, at least I know have good taste.”

A laugh bubbled up from Evie’s throat. She hooked her arm through her brother’s elbow and he leaned wearily on her shoulder, his hair tickling her neck.

“I feel terrible, Evie,” he admitted. “He’s obviously really upset. He can’t even look me in the eyes.”

“This isn’t your fault,” Evie reminded him, squeezing his arm affectionately. “We’ll do our best to fix what’s been done to you.”

“And if you can’t?” asked the rogue, bluntly. “Then what?”

“Then… you just have to get to know each other again, I guess. Though he might need a little time before he’s ready to speak to you.”

Maxwell shrugged. “I guess I can understand that,” he agreed.

The fell silent for a few moments, listening to the waves and the not-too-distant squeaks of a pod of dolphins.

“You know,” Evie said quietly, “As much as I hate what Aquinea’s done to you  - and I hate how much it’s hurting Dorian – it… Maker, it could have been so much worse. I’m glad you’re alright, Max.”

Smiling, Max inclined his head and pressed a brief kiss to her cheek.

“Likewise,” he murmured. “I’d never have forgiven myself if anything had happened to you trying to rescue me.”

“With Dorian and Cullen around?” Evie smiled. “It would never have happened.”

Max smirked, shaking his head, and his eyes wandered out over the horizon again. “Are you worried?” he asked.

“Worried?”

“That they’ll come back to finish the job? Trying to kill me is one thing but people messing around in my head? I really, really don’t like that.” He brother bit his lip and she could see that thought was troubling him. She couldn’t honestly say that it hadn’t crossed her mind – Aquinea did not seem the type to let things lie.

“It doesn’t matter,” she answered eventually and Max turned to her with a puzzled look. “It doesn’t matter,” she explained, “Because we’re not going to give them the chance. We need to leave Minrathous, Max, and soon. I won’t stay here and have them destroy our lives any more than they already have.”

Maxwell raised both brows. “Will your husband agree to this?” he asked, sounding doubtful. “From what Cullen has been telling me, he has quite the standing here. It don’t imagine that’s an easy thing to give up.”

Evie pursed her lips in thought. It was true, Dorian was probably at a height in his career. He was mere inches away from becoming a First Enchanter, after all. Would he want to give up everything he had worked so hard for, especially now that Max had no memory of him?

Frowning, she gave herself a little mental shake. No, such thoughts were ridiculous. Even if his relationship was on the rocks, Dorian was a principled man. He wouldn’t stick around after the slight he’d been delivered, of that Evie felt confident. What he’d want to do, however, and where he’d want to go, were different questions entirely.

 

*

 

They said farewell to Rusty and his crew once they reached the capital. Evie pulled the dwarf into a hug, at which he seemed surprised but not entirely displeased.

“Thank you,” she murmured. “So much. If it wasn’t for you, we probably would never have found him.”

“Yes, well,” the dwarf said gruffly, and the skin just above his beard was tinged an adorable shade of pink. “As I said… the boss is decent man and we ain’t the sort to let a good guy get lost to some bad shit.”

Evie beamed gratefully. She shook hands with him and the rest of his gang before going to stand with Cullen and Dorian. Maxwell was speaking to the four in private and, from the looks on their faces, it seemed he was telling them it might well be their last meeting.

“So what do we do now?” asked Cullen, taking her by the hand. “We have a secret exposed and a man with a great portion of his memory missing. How do we move forward from this? Minrathous is a big city – do you think there’ll be someone who can help us?”

“It doesn’t matter because we’re not staying in Minrathous.”

Evie had been expecting those words from Dorian. He’d been quiet and contemplative for most of the trip home and she’d just had a feeling she knew what he was thinking about. Apparently, he had come to his decision.

Cullen, on the other hand, seemed surprised by the notion.

“But your life is in Minrathous!” he exclaimed, softly. “Dorian, everything you’ve worked for-”

“Is irrelevant compared to the safety of those I care about,” was his blunt rebuttal. He turned to Cullen, his expression hard and determined. “I’ve given it some thought whilst we were stuck on that wretched ship.  And I will admit, it’s not a decision I’m making lightly. I have much here, it’s true. But all of that is meaningless without the people I love. Without my freedom. This is our chance to truly live our own lives. Surely you want to take the woman _you love_ as your own, my dear Commander?”

Cullen glanced down at Evie and his sweet, tentative smile made her feel nervous with hope.

“I do,” he murmured. “But we’ve discussed this before. The risks in the South…”

“I know,” Dorian sighed. “And yet things have been changing for mages there lately, have they not? Perhaps there is a new regime on the horizon, a chance for equality. I, for one, would very much like to be a part of that.” He worried his bottom lip ever so slightly, casting his eyes back towards the dockside they’d just left. “Besides,” he added, quietly. “We are at risk here now too. I know my mother and she will not stop. Next time, it might be me having my mind altered, as apparently my father has no qualms to such an atrocity. Or perhaps she’ll simply send her assassins after Maxwell again, have them finish the job.”

“Or _my_ father will stand by his word and come after _you_ ,” said Evie warily to Cullen. “He’s already proven how far he’s willing to go for success. I wouldn’t put it past him.”

Cullen sighed but he made no move to dispute either of their claims.

“Do you not want to go back?” Evie asked him, in soft voice.

The blonde blinked in surprise. “What? Of course I do!” he exclaimed. “I just… remember how everything was before I left. The Circles might not be waiting to drag you in but there’s still plenty of danger.”

“There’s danger here too,” she reminded him. “At least out of Tevinter, we have a chance to truly be together.”

Cullen smiled at that and he pulled her into the reassuring comfort of his strong arms. “You know there’s nothing I want more than that in the world,” he murmured, running his fingers through her hair. “It just seems so… drastic.”

“More drastic than charging over half of Thedas to recue your beloved from an _evil Tevinter magister_?” Dorian asked, with more than a hint of sarcasm. Cullen flushed ever so slightly and Evie couldn’t repress a giggle.

“A fair point,” the blonde sighed. “Alright, so say we do leave. Where do we go?”

However, at that point, Maxwell was strolling back over to them and Dorian held up a hand for quiet.

“Later,” he murmured. “We’ll sit down and discuss this properly when we’re home.”

Cullen nodded just as Maxwell approached them.

“All done?” asked Evie, slipping out of Cullen’s embrace.

“Yeah,” he nodded. “They’ve got another job lined up so they’re not sticking around.” His brows furrowed in consternation and Evie saw him glance over at Dorian, his demeanour awkward and unsure. “So… what now?”

“You’re going to come back with us,” Evie told him gently. “We’ve… a few things we need to discuss out of all this, decisions to make and so on. But one thing is clear – you cannot go back to Father now.”

Maxwell snorted. “Yeah, no shit,” he muttered. “Guess I’m officially out of a job then. It might be a good idea to pull what money I can from my trust before Father cuts it off… if he hasn’t already.”

“Not a terrible idea,” sighed Dorian. “I’m sure Mother is erasing me out of her will as we speak.”

“We’ll sort it,” Evie reassured them both. “Let’s not fret, especially about money. We’re all alive and that’s the most important thing. Now, I think I still have a little coin in my purse. How about I hail us a carriage? I don’t really want to walk through the city with four days of travel on me.”

It was a quiet ride back to the palazzo, everyone lost deep in their own thoughts. Evie sat next to Dorian in an attempt to put a little distance between him and Maxwell. Her brother was trying to give the Altus some space but, every so often, she would catch him staring out of the corner of his emerald eyes. She wondered what he was thinking. Was he trying to remember? Or was he simply eyeing up the handsome ‘Vint? Even less than polished, as he was now, Dorian was undeniably pretty. Max was only mortal. She knew it wouldn’t be long before Max was interested. But would Dorian welcome that? After what they’d shared, she wasn’t so sure.

The servants were touchingly pleased to see them back in one piece. Ellery had the kitchens fired up immediately and the house girls were sent off to draw them all baths.

“Join me?” Dorian asked Evie quietly. The redhead glanced at Cullen, who smiled softly and nodded his head, amber eyes gentle and understanding.

“All right,” Evie agreed. “We’ll take the main bathroom. The boys can bathe in their rooms. Or our rooms, I guess… oh, I don’t know. You get my point.”

Dorian nodded and he requested that they all be quick in cleaning up. “We’ve a lot to talk about over dinner,” he sighed, exhaustion rife in his voice. He took Evie by the hand and the pair of them were heading towards the West wing when Maxwell stopped them.

“Dorian?” he called. “May I have a word?”

They paused and Evie shot her brother a questioning look. Max, however, didn’t even notice – he was too busy looking at Dorian.

“Alright…” the Altus muttered. “Evie, will you give us a moment, please?”

Blinking, Evie let go of Dorian’s hand. “Yes, of course,” she nodded. “I’ll just… wait for you in the bathroom.”

Dorian gave her a vacant sort of smile and he wandered over to where Max was waiting for him, leaving Evie to her own devices. The redhead turned and left the great room but she didn’t go far, lingering just around the corner of the West corridor. She knew it was a little dishonest of her but her curiosity was burning, not to mention the warning bells that were tolling loudly in her head. Max had agreed to give Dorian some space, after all – why was he dragging him off for private chats?

Peeking around the corner, she watched as the two men conversed in low voices. They were too quiet for her to hear what they were saying. Max was looking a little uncomfortable but there was genuine kindness in his eyes as he said his piece. Dorian listened to whatever he had to say, his face passive. When Max reached out and placed a tentative touch on his arm, the mage shrank back, wide-eyed. Max looked chastened but he carried on. What in the Void were they talking about? Evie couldn’t be sure but it almost looked as though he were apologising.

When her brother reached out again and cupped Dorian’s cheeks, she half expected violence. Maker, what was he _doing_? How was this keeping his distance? What she didn’t expect, however, was for Dorian to surge forward, pulling the man in into a desperate, passionate kiss. She stared, astounded, as Max flailed for a moment, clearly caught off guard. Then his eyes fluttered closed and he gave in to whatever Dorian was doing. His hands rested lightly on Dorian’s waist and Evie could tell he was kissing him back. And yet, when the two parted, Maxwell simply looked bemused. Apparently, that was not the reaction Dorian was looking for. He turned promptly on his heel. Evie caught a glimpse of the anguish on his face before it occurred to her to move. She sprinted on the balls of her feet down the corridor and slipped into the bathroom, where she began hastily shedding her outer layers.

Dorian slunk in a few moments later, slamming the door behind him and slumping against it.

“Dorian?” Evie asked softly, as she stepped out of her gown, leaving her standing in a thin, silk slip. Her fellow mage lifted his head a fraction, revealing the tears that were sliding silently down his cheeks. “Oh, Dorian!” the redhead sighed. She was at his side in a heartbeat, pulling him into her arms. “Darling, what happened? What did he do to you?”

“Oh, nothing,” Dorian scoffed. “He was trying to be kind and I thought… Kaffas, I thought if I could just make him remember…” He shook his head miserably and buried his face in the crook of Evie’s neck. Evie sighed sadly.

“We’ll find a way,” she whispered. “I promise you.”

She meant it too. Even if she had to scour every single tome in Thedas, she would find a way to restore their love. It had to be possible.  


	54. A Drunken Mistake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With plans to leave set in motion. Cullen and Dorian share a glass of wine. Or ten.

Chapter XLIX

A Drunken Mistake

 

Considering it was impromptu, Cullen thought that dinner was exceptional. Perhaps it was simply because it was their first hot meal in a while. After all, anything tasted good after days of dried meat, bruised fruit and slightly stale bread. However, Cullen felt that was a discredit to the staff.  Dorian’s servants were incredibly well-trained and it never failed to impress him when they pulled out all the stops.

Unfortunately, the topic of conversation as they ate was less pleasant than the food. Everybody seemed on board with the idea of leaving Tevinter – Maxwell especially, not to anyone’s surprise. Ironing out the details, though, was considerably more complex.

“It’s going to cost us money to travel,” Cullen pointed out. “I… have a little left of what I brought from Ostwick but it’s not much. Even as Knight-Commander, a Templar’s salary was not generous.”

His gaze flickered over to Evie opposite him, cheeks heating in embarrassment. The redhead smiled and she took his hand over the table, giving it an affectionate and reassuring squeeze.

“I have money put aside,” she said, gently. “It’s not exactly a fortune but it should see us all safely where we want to go.”

“Me too,” Max nodded. “I can have it within a couple of days.”

“What about the apartment?” asked Evie curiously, turning her attention to Dorian. “It’s not as though we’re going to be needing it anymore.”

Sipping at his wine, Dorian blew out a weary sort of sigh. “It’s not that simple, unfortunately,” he said, as he set down the glass and began to pick at his dessert. “The deed is legally in my name but, as it was bought with my parents’ gold, they will be able to dispute my selling it and keeping the proceeds.” He frowned. “It’s a complicated process, all sorts of bureaucracy, but it will mean trouble for us if we’re to abscond with the money.”

“So that’s a no then,” Evie sighed. “Oh well, I thought it was a long shot.”

“We should have enough in funds to see us away from here and help us set up someplace else,” replied Dorian. “We might have to be a little frugal but…” He shrugged and Cullen was hard pressed not to laugh, despite the seriousness of the situation. Frugal and Dorian were two things that did not mesh well together. Maker, the man’s wardrobe alone must have been worth more that most people’s homes back in Honnleath. That he was willing to leave behind a life of finery… well, Cullen couldn’t imagine just how much he must hate his family right now.

“We’ve yet to decide where we’re going to go,” Max pointed out. He glanced across at Dorian but the mage kept his flint-coloured eyes firmly averted. It was uncomfortable to see.

“I still think Ferelden is out best option,” stated Cullen, clearing his throat. “It’s the heart of the rebellion, true, but it’s also the place we’re least likely to be branded apostates.”

“And I’d really like to keep clear of the Free Marches,” Max sighed. “We have no idea how many people could be loyal to my father.”

“Then Ferelden it shall be,” nodded Dorian. “Truth be told, I don’t really care where we end up, so long as it isn’t here. Or Antiva,” he added, with a smirk.

Cullen nodded. “We’re going to need a route then. And maps. Horses. A tent would be wise.”

“A tent?!” Dorian spluttered, looking horrified. “Maker, tell me you’re joking!”

“There won’t always be inns to hole up in,” the blonde chuckled. “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure it’s a nice one.”

Dorian looked positively nauseated, which only made him laugh even more. Across the table, Evie elbowed the Vint playfully in the ribs.

“We’ve done it once before, remember?” she pointed out, to which Dorian scoffed.

“Yes, and it was ghastly,” he muttered. “I endured it only because we’d almost been killed and I was still reeling from that particular trauma.” He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Alright, get the blighted tent. Maker, I might as well sell my robes now and buy some of those ugly, shapeless, knitted things your Southern kin seem so fond of.”

Maxwell laughed around a mouthful of the spiced fruit tart on his plate. Surprised, Dorian glanced across at him. Their eyes met and Cullen saw the rogue wink. Dorian flushed and he looked away quickly, though not quickly enough to hide his subtle smile.

“I’ll head out tomorrow and see what I can do,” nodded Cullen, and he looked to Evie, the pair of them grinning at each other. “It’ll be a few days before we can leave.”

“The sooner the better,” Dorian muttered.

 

*

 

Cullen spent a fair bit of the evening in Max’s company, consulting with the rogue on an extensive list of what they’d need. It wasn’t as lengthy as he’d imagined. Max had assured him that packing light was in their best interests – especially if they found themselves being pursued. The pair of them were going to head to the markets at dawn to do the shopping together.

After they’d finished, Maxwell decided to get an early night. He had to be shown to his room. It seemed that, whilst he could remember parts of the palazzo, he had no recollection of which room was his own. Cullen was thankful that Dorian was elsewhere. He didn’t want to imagine the hurt look on the Altus’ face at seeing their bedroom door locked without him in it.

He realised as he headed back to the great room that he hadn’t seen the other man since dinner. Evie, he knew, was down in the kitchens, putting her nervous energy to good use. Cullen decided to check in on Dorian and see how he was doing.

He found him in the study. The lamps were burning low, casting long, flickering shadows across the room. Dorian was sitting at his desk, his chin resting on one hand and a glass of wine in the other. He glanced up when he heard the door and Cullen could tell immediately that he was drunk.

“Ah, Cullen,” he sighed, and he drained the remains of his glass in a single pull. “I did wonder who’d be the first to wander in here.”

“What are you doing?” Cullen asked. “No one’s seen you since dinner.”

“Just tying up a few loose ends,” the Altus shrugged, with surprising elegance. He picked up another glass from the tray on his desk and began to fill them both. “Come, now. Join me. It’s been a trying day, has it not?”

The blonde didn’t respond right away. Whilst a relaxing drink seemed like a nice idea, he wasn’t sure whether or not he should be encouraging Dorian’s drinking – especially when the man was distressed. However, a quick glance at the mage and Cullen decided he needed a friend right now more than he needed a lecture. It wasn’t as though he’d had much time to process what had happened.

“All right then,” he agreed. “But just the one. I’ve got to get up at first light to get to the markets.” He closed the study door behind him and took up the seat on the other side of Dorian’s desk. A glass of deep, dark red was pushed his way and Cullen murmured his thanks. “How are you doing?” he asked quietly, searching the other man’s face for any clues as to his emotional state. Dorian heaved a sigh and he ran his fingers distractedly through his hair.

“I’ve just been to tell the staff that we no longer require their services,” he murmured. “I’ll be giving them all glowing letters of recommendation, so they won’t struggle to find work…” He gestured vaguely to the stack of papers on his desk. “Maker’s breath, it was like I’d kicked them,” he finished, shaking his head.

Cullen took a sip of his drink and he offered the mage his kindest smile. “I know this can’t be easy for you,” he declared, “Leaving your entire life behind like this.”

“It isn’t,” Dorian agreed. “Though not for the reasons one might think. Forgive me for saying so, but I will always be an exceptional mage, senior enchanter or not. My abilities speak for themselves.” His eyes dropped to his knees then. “It’s the places I leave behind,” he went on, quietly, “and the people I hold dear that will hurt the most.”

He flashed Cullen a grim smile, the gesture doing nothing to hide the dullness in his eyes or the raw tone to his cultured voice. For a moment, Cullen wondered who he could be talking about. His best friend and his lover – of sorts – would both be going with him. However, he remembered the dinner party and the handful of people who had stuck behind to take care of him when he’d been poisoned.

“You mean Felix and Maevaris,” he realised, after a moment. “And your mentor – the one we met in the library.”

Dorian nodded. “The Alexius’ have been there for me in times where I could barely look after myself,” he admitted, with another hearty swill of wine. “It feels like poor form to run off like this without having fully repaid them.”

“Dorian,” murmured Cullen. “These people care about you. What they’ll want more than anything is for you to be safe. I’m sure they’ll understand.”

“Of course they will,” the Tevinter groaned, slumping back in his chair. “They’re all so bloody reasonable like that. It doesn’t make it any easier.”

A laugh escaped Cullen at that. “Would you prefer they moan and rail at you?” he grinned. “Give you a hard time?”

“It would certainly make it less difficult to leave them behind,” Dorian responded, and Cullen laughed again.

“Can you not arrange to see them before we go?” he asked, reasonably. They a few days before they could leave, after all. Dorian, however, shook his head.

“Mae’s not here all the time,” he explained. “She actually lives in Qarinus – it’s how we know each other.”

“Ah, yes,” Cullen nodded. “Going back there would not be wise.”

“No,” agreed Dorian. “I suppose we could drop in on Felix, though,” he added, brightly. “The Alexius estate is just outside of Asariel, which is on the road south anyway.”

The thought of being able to see his friend and mentor before they left seemed to cheer Dorian up. Cullen’s one glass of wine became many as the pair of them chatted about everything that came to mind, from what they were looking forward to about the journey to the mage rebellion and where in Thedas the two of them had been before.

They were well into their third bottle when Cullen realised he was getting drunk himself. He hadn’t quite had as much to drink as Dorian had, though the Altus certainly seemed to be holding it better. The only signs he was tipsy were the flush on his bronze skin, the softening of his focus and a slight wobble when he tried to get up too fast. Cullen… well, he felt certain he was making an ass of himself. He couldn’t stop giggling at the smallest of things and he’d almost spilled a glass of wine all over Dorian.

They’d long since moved away from the desk and the pile of papers littering its surface. The study had a charming window seat overlooking the street below and there the pair of them had made themselves comfortable. Dorian was topping up Cullen’s glass again, in spite of the blonde’s protests.

“No, no more,” he laughed. “Didn’t you hear me when I said just the one?”

“Nonsense, Commander,” Dorian grinned in reply. “You said no such thing. Now be a good man and let’s finish off this bottle, shall we? No sense in letting it go to waste.”

“Maker, you’re a demon,” sighed Cullen, though he hardly made any move to stop the other man. Dorian caught his eye and favoured him with an exaggerated wink.

“My dear Cullen, you have no idea how often I’ve heard that,” he purred, causing Cullen to snicker inelegantly into his wine. Dorian laughed at the sound, setting the now empty wine bottle down on the nearest surface, before turning back to the blonde. It was dark outside and the light of moon cast a fey glow over Dorian’s often warm features. It glittered in his eyes like diamonds and Cullen found himself staring just a little too hard.

“Have you… spoken to Maxwell?” he found himself asking, without even thinking. Dorian flinched as though he’d been slapped and Cullen groaned. “Damn, I’m sorry,” he muttered. “I shouldn’t have brought that up. We were having a good time.”

To his relief, Dorian simply shook his head – rather gracefully, Cullen noted. “It’s fine,” he sighed. “I s’pose you noticed the looks over dinner? What am I saying, of course you did. And if you didn’t, your dear Evie will have done.”

“Does it make you hopeful?” asked the blonde, cautiously.

“I… don’t know,” Dorian replied, and, Maker, if the despondency in his voice wasn’t painful to hear. “It will take a lot more than a few shared laughs and covert glances to fix what’s been done to us, Cullen. Kaffas, I’m glad he’s alive but having to look into those eyes and see nothing of the warmth he once held for me…” He sighed miserably. “It’s quite possible we might never get that back.”

“Dorian,” breathed Cullen. He leaned over to comfort the other man but somehow his hand wound up on Dorian’s thigh instead of his shoulder. For a long moment, they both stared at it. Cullen could feel himself blushing and yet, despite his brain screaming at him, he made no move to shift it. Instead he set his drink down on the window ledge and he looked up to meet Dorian’s eyes. The mage was staring at him, his lips slightly parted in something like surprise. He too put down his glass and, in a movement that was too fast for Cullen’s drunk mind to even fathom, he slipped into the blonde’s lap.

“Dorian!” Cullen exclaimed. “What are you-”

But Dorian cut him off with a searing kiss. Cullen tensed, his heartbeat suddenly a thundering stampede in his chest. Maker, what was Dorian doing? What was _he_ doing? It was madness and he knew it. And yet, instead of pushing the mage away, he found himself kissing him back. Instead of walking away, as any responsible man would, he found his arms snaking around Dorian’s neck, fingers lacing in ebony tresses. Dorian moaned at the response and he pushed Cullen up against the wall, his fingers gripping the blonde’s shoulders. It was no tender kiss. Dorian was relentless, his wine-flavoured tongue demanding entrance into Cullen’s mouth. Cullen nipped at it gently and the Altus only whimpered, pressing himself flush against Cullen’s chest.

The blonde knew what they were doing was wrong. They’d been drinking and Dorian was upset. He knew he should put a stop to it. But he couldn’t help himself. How many times had he looked at those lips and wondered what they’d taste like? How many times had he admired Dorian’s impressive physique, fantasising about how it would feel hemming him up against a flat surface? The dream was nothing compared to the reality. Cullen couldn’t ever remember being so turned on by a simple kiss. He growled into Dorian’s mouth, his hands gliding down the mage’s back to grab at his backside.

Suddenly, the door to the study opened. The pair of them sprang apart, wide eyed with alarm. Evie was standing in the open doorway, staring at the scene before her with hard, unreadable eyes. Cullen’s stomach turned to lead.

“Evie,” he panted. “I’m so sorry, shit, I-!”

“It’s my fault,” blurted Dorian, and Cullen stared at him in surprise. “Please, don’t be angry at him! I kissed him and, kaffas, I know I shouldn’t have, I am so sorry! Say something, Evie.”

The blonde couldn’t tear his eyes away from his lover. She’d yet to have even blinked, let alone spoken, and Maker, he thought he might throw up with sheer panic. It was a surprise then, when she simply sighed and shook her head. She stepped properly into the room, shutting the door behind her, and she fixed them both with a look that was quite simply exasperated.

“I’m not angry,” she said, quietly. “I figured this would happen sooner or later and it’s not like I didn’t offer. But really? Like this? Dorian, what if Max had been the one to walk in here and not me?” she asked, sternly. “I know he’s not exactly himself but what’s he going to think if he finds you devouring another man? It doesn’t look good.”

“I… yes, of course, you’re right,” Dorian nodded and he ran his hands distractedly through his hair, groaning. “Venhedis, what was I thinking?”

“You weren’t,” she responded, though not unkindly. A sad smile curved her lips and she crossed the room to join them, settling herself in the gap that had formed between them both. “You’re upset, I understand. You were trying to feel something other than pain. We’ve all been there, amicus.”  She slipped her arm around his shoulders. Cullen heard him sigh – a shaky, mournful little sound that tugged at the strings of his heart.

“My apologies, Cullen,” the Altus murmured. “I should not have taken advantage of you like that.”

“I wasn’t exactly beating you off,” Cullen reminded him, and both Evie and Dorian chuckled at that.

“Look, you two have clearly had a bit to drink tonight,” the redhead noted, her eyes taking in the empty bottles dotted about the room. “Let’s just forget this happened and get you both to bed. _Separate_ beds,” she added, when Dorian began to snicker.  

“I think you might be right,” he agreed. He got to his feet – far too steadily, Cullen thought – and offered Evie his hand. “I am sorry, you know,” he said, softly. “I wouldn’t blame you for being livid with me.”

“I’m not,” promised Evie. “Just… don’t. Not like this.”

They left the study together, their arms linked to keep everybody upright. Evie gave him a little smile, one that Cullen could barely return for the guilt that was settling in his chest. What in the Void had he been thinking? He could have ruined everything for a fleeting moment of attraction.  Dorian was gorgeous but he loved Evie. What they had was worth so much more than a drunken fumble. Now more than ever, he should know that.


	55. Leaving It All Behind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dorian regrets his drunken misbehaviour and preparations for the journey South are undertaken.

L

Leaving It All Behind

 

 

Despite being an expert at feigning sobriety, Dorian was more than a touch unsteady as he made his way through the apartment. If it hadn’t been for Evie’s arm around his waist, he’d been sure to have stumbled at least once. Thankfully his friend hand a good hold on him and, between her and Cullen, the pair of them were keeping him upright.

The Altus was burning with shame, even through his alcoholic haze. He’d kissed his best friend’s lover – after his own had just been kidnapped and subjected to blood magic. What had he been _thinking_? Maker, he hadn’t been thinking, that much was clear – maybe save the thought of a pleasant pity fuck. Max deserved better than that. _Cullen_ deserved better than that. He was going to have to get a grip on himself before he destroyed all of his relationships with self-pity and thoughts of his dick.

They arrived at Evie’s room and Dorian was fully prepared to wander on down the hall by himself. To his surprise, Evie turned to Cullen and flashed a placid smile in his direction.

“I think it would be better if Dorian stayed with me tonight, don’t you?” she suggested, sweetly. “He could clearly use the company.”

Dorian frowned and so did Cullen, looking taken aback.

“Oh,” he murmured. “Yes, I… suppose. Is everything alright?”

“Of course,” came Evie’s cheery reply. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

“I don’t know,” Cullen muttered, and he looked from Evie to Dorian and back again in his confusion. Dorian simply shrugged, not entirely sure what was going on. “Alright, well, I’ll just take one of the guest rooms tonight, then.”

“Really, I’ll be perfectly fine-” Dorian began, but Evie cut him off with a peculiar little laugh.

“Of course you would, darling,” she beamed. “But Cullen doesn’t mind, do you?”

Cullen blinked at her owlishly. Evie’s smile tightened and her lover nodded at once.

“Of course, it’s no imposition,” he replied. “Get a good night’s sleep, both of you.”

He flashed a strange, almost bewildered expression at Evie before slinking off up the West corridor alone.

Evie turned to Dorian with another smile – softer this time, warming the depths of her eyes – and she gestured towards the door.

“Shall we?” she suggested, and she led the way into what once had been their shared bedroom. Dorian followed her, a little perplexed. There had certainly been something off in her exchange with Cullen, though the Altus couldn’t quite pinpoint what in his tipsy state. He watched, frowning quizzically, as Evie moved about the room with familiar ease.

“Is everything alright?” he asked her slowly. “Are you certain you’re not upset?”

The redhead paused at her dresser, laughing airily as she pulled a long, silk chemise from one of her drawers.

“Relax, Dorian,” she said softly, closing the drawer and making her way to his side. “I promise – I’m not angry at you. There’s nothing to worry about.”

She pecked him fondly on the cheek, wandering over to the privacy screen and slipping behind it to change. Dorian stared after her. He couldn’t quite shake the feeling that something wasn’t right. Yet Evie was being perfectly pleasant and he wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth. He began to clumsily strip off the outer layers of his outfit, drunken fingers fumbling on the clasps. He’d just about managed his outer robe by the time Evie re-emerged and she came over to help him, batting his hands away.

“Here,” she offered, pushing the heavier garment off his shoulders and folding it neatly. “Want your things?”

“No,” Dorian replied through a yawn. “I’ll sleep like this.”

He was suddenly tired and the heavenly softness of the master bed was calling to him like a siren. He clambered in beside his friend, smiling when she curled into his side with a little sigh.

“It’ll be alright, you know,” she murmured, burying her face in his shoulder. “We’ll fix this whole horrible mess soon enough.”

“So you say,” he muttered in reply. He wasn’t sure he believed her at current but he was too weary to protest. If nothing else, her optimism was endearing. Wrapping an arm around her, he buried his face in her long auburn curls, breathing deep the scent of jasmine that followed her like a cloud. He couldn’t recall exactly when this gentle young woman - this unwanted spouse - had become such a source of comfort to him. But as his love life fell to pieces, he was thankful, at least, that he had his friends to rely on.

 

*

 

Dorian awoke sometime in the early hours of the morning. His body was clammy with sweat, his head pounding and his throat felt as dry as the Hissing Wastes. Groaning, he sat up, screwing his eyes shut against a wave of nausea. His stomach churned and, for a brief moment, he thought he might vomit. Mercifully, the urge passed and he glanced around to find that the bed was empty.

“Evie?” he croaked, his voice thin and reedy.

The Altus heaved a sigh and he swung his legs over the edge of the bed. There was a pitcher of water on the bedside table and he poured himself a glass, gulping it down gratefully. It soothed the worst of his aching throat and dispelled a little of his grogginess.

“Evie?” he called again, clearer this time. Yet still, he got no reply. He wondered where she could have gotten to. It was not unlike her to wander off in the night, he supposed – at least, it hadn’t been back when they’d shared a bed regularly. Often, he’d find her curled up in the great room with a blanket and a book. Or in the kitchens, brewing tea. Those would be the first places to check. However, as he approached the bedroom door, it appeared he wouldn’t have to.

The door was open just a fraction, light from the great room seeping in through the crack. Dorian could hear whispered voices just beyond and he inched a little closer to listen.

“But I thought you said-“

“I _know_ what I said!” Evie was hissing. “But I was trying not to make him uncomfortable – he has enough on his mind as it is. The fact is you were out of line, Cullen! After everything that’s happened – after how understanding I’ve been - you choose _now_ to decide you want him?”

“He kissed _me_!” Cullen protested in a heated whisper

“He was _vulnerable_ and you took advantage,” retorted Evie. “Of all the times you could have chosen, this is possibly the worst!”

“I… you’re right, I’m sorry. Maker, you’re really mad, aren’t you?”

“I just need some space, Cullen. Go back to bed.”

Dorian heard the man’s heavy sigh.

“Alright,” he muttered. “I’m at the markets first think with your brother so I suppose I’ll see you later on.”

Evie made a non-committal noise and Dorian realised that their whispered argument was effectively over. He darted as fast as he could managed back into bed – and just in time. The door opened, Evie slipping soundlessly into the bedroom

“Dorian?” she murmured, upon seeing him sitting up on his pillows. “Did I wake you?”

“No, though the shards of glass at the back of my throat did,” he answered honestly. Evie cooed, sinking down onto the mattress beside him and feeling his forehead.

“You’re warm,” she observed. “Are you feeling ill?”

“It’s no less than I deserve,” he chuckled, ruefully. “Don’t concern yourself. It’s not my first hangover and I doubt it’ll be my last.”

“As you wish,” shrugged Evie. She clambered over his legs then, slipping into the bed at his left side. He felt her breath tickling the side of his neck and he was just about getting comfortable again when his own curiosity betrayed him.

“I thought you weren’t angry,” he mumbled, and, kaffas, he could have kicked himself. Could he not simply have let it lie?

Evie sighed. “I’m not angry, Dorian,” she responded, patiently. “Not at you.”

Again, he felt relieved to hear it but he couldn’t in all honesty just leave it at that.

“But… I kissed _him_ , Evie,” he pointed out.

“I know,” Evie reasoned. “But given everything that’s happened, I can’t really blame you. He, on the other hand, should have known better than to lead you on.”

The Altus frowned in the darkness. Somehow, he thought Evie was rather missing the point but he decided against arguing any further. He didn’t want to make the situation any worse. Also, perhaps a little selfishly, he really didn’t want Evie to be angry at him. With Maxwell a veritable stranger and Cullen likely confused, he really needed her support. He did, however, have every intention of apologising to the blonde in the morning. After he’d slept of the worst of his hangover, naturally.

It wasn’t until late morning that Dorian got the opportunity. He’d slept through breakfast, much to his dismay, though Evie had told him that Cullen was out with Max anyway. Now _there_ was a sobering thought. He only had to imagine his lover – former lover? – and the blonde getting cosy before he found himself inexplicably envious.

“Darling, you said you needed some space,” Evie had shrugged, as she’d handed him a cup of steaming tea. “He’s giving you that.”

Dorian had very nearly pouted. “I know,” he’d grumbled. “I just don’t want him to go falling for anyone else.”

The two of them returned from the markets shortly after, their trip having been mostly successful.

“We seem to have tracked down everything we need,” Maxwell announced brightly, sinking down onto a couch next to his sister. He pilfered a sip of her tea and she swatted him fondly on the arm for it.

“Even the horses?” she asked, sounding surprised.

“We were lucky to get there early,” Cullen responded. “The breeder had half a dozen decent beasts he was looking to offload. We’ve taken four of them.”

“Rather the successful outing then,” Dorian noted. “Have the financial arrangements been secured?”

“It’ll all be ready by the morning after tomorrow,” nodded Max. “Thankfully, there was little trouble.”

Dorian smiled wearily. “Excellent,” he proclaimed. “It seems we’re well on our way then. Cullen, if you’ve nothing else to do, might I have a word?”

The blonde looked surprised but he recovered quickly, managing not to blush.

“Er, yes,” he muttered, “Of course.”

He got to his feet and Dorian led him away from the siblings. Evie eyed them warily as they retreated and the Altus gave her the most reassuring look he could muster.

He led Cullen to the dining room, not bothering to close the doors but deliberately dropping the volume of his voice.

“I wanted to apologise,” Dorian said swiftly, before Cullen could interject. “For last night. Not only was I foolish, I appear to have gotten you into trouble and I feel dreadful. It wasn’t my intention.”

To his relief, Cullen simply chuckled, his scarred lip curving in that wickedly attractive manner.

“Don’t worry,” he sighed. “Evie’s right, I wasn’t the one in a bad place last night. I should have done something other than kiss you back.”

“Is she quite cross?”

“A little peeved,” he admitted. “It’s not the first time we’ve had a tiff, Dorian, and I doubt it’ll be the last. Though, admittedly, this _is_ the first time I’ve upset her by kissing her male best friend…”

Dorian laughed at that, feeling genuinely more at ease for Cullen’s dry wit.

“Oh?” he grinned. “So you’ve upset her by kissing a female friend, have you?”

“Maker, no,” Cullen smiled. “It’s not something I make a habit of, pleasant as it was.”

“Pleasant? Oh my! Is that a compliment?”  

Cullen flushed, his amber eyes growing wide with embarrassment.

“No,” he stammered. “Well, yes, obviously but I wasn’t… Maker’s breath, Dorian! I have to go.”

And go he did, bolting out of the room like a frightened rabbit. Dorian couldn’t resist a chuckle. Even as risqué as the former Templar’s behaviour had been lately, it was endearing to know he was still shy, sweet Cullen underneath it all.

 

*

 

They left Minrathous two nights later, under the cover of darkness. Of course, it wouldn’t stop the truly determined spies from figuring out their activities but they reasoned that the streets would be quiet enough to avoid them becoming household gossip.

Cullen, Dorian, Maxwell and Evie, along with their four mounts, saddled to the max with supplies, left their comfortable home in the capital. It had been remarkably sad and Dorian couldn’t blame Evie for the few silent tears she had shed as they rode away. As much as their life there had been a construct of their respective parents, they had managed to find themselves a niche. Dorian would even go so far as to say they’d been happy, in a way. Perhaps it was because of recent events, and the memories of a time before that he was effectively leaving behind, but Dorian’s heart was heavy as they cantered through the iconic gates of Minrathous.

They rode through the night, eager to put some distance between themselves and the city by daybreak. It was a quiet journey for the most part, each of them wrapped up firmly in their own thoughts. Evie sang softly to herself for a while and, every so often, Cullen or Maxwell would drum up a little conversation, only to have it fall flat. By the time the sun rose, they’d all but dwindled into silence.

A tavern appeared in the distance and they made for it without so much as a questioning glance, eager for a hot meal and a soft bed.

“Life on the run is much more exciting in novels,” Dorian grumbled, as he added honey to his rather unremarkable breakfast. They had managed to snatch up the last room the tavern had to offer, which was fortunate, though it did mean they were all stuck sharing the two beds. Cullen and Maxwell had offered to share to avoid any awkwardness but Dorian had his doubts as to whether or not it would actually happen. Evie and Cullen had recently taken up residence in front of the fireplace and, judging by the way they were kissing, their quarrel of a few days ago had been well and truly forgotten.

“Revolting isn’t it?” Max sniffed, from his chair at their tiny table. “I swear to the Maker, if they start fucking, I’m sleeping in one of the tents.”    

Dorian chuckled in spite of himself, toying idly with his porridge.

“I had rather hoped to avoid the tents for as long as possible,” he sighed. “Though I’m inclined to agree nevertheless. I’ve seen more than enough of those two to last me a lifetime.”

He lifted a spoonful of the viscous concoction to his lips, grimacing at the texture. It was, however, decent tasting and pleasantly heavy in his stomach - certainly better than nothing. Maxwell didn’t seem to mind the basic cuisine and was devouring it heartily in a manner that made Dorian smile. At least, until he remembered himself. He glanced away, an all too familiar ache in his chest appearing out of nowhere.

He’d almost polished off his meagre fayre when movement caught his eye. Evie was dragging a blushing Cullen out of the room by the hand. She tossed Dorian a wink as she passed him and, even when the door had closed behind them, he could hear them giggling all the way down the stairs. Dorian’s eyes rolled into the back of his skull.

“Like a pair of adolescents,” he reprimanded, though he couldn’t deny he was secretly a little pleased for them. Only a little, of course.

“Nothing wrong with a bit of passion, Dorian,” Max commented, his tone airy. The Altus looked up sharply from his bowl and he fixed his former lover with an incredulous stare. The rogue chuckled, shrugging his shoulders lightly. “What?” he grinned. “Do you disagree?”

“I… well no!” Dorian found himself spluttering and, Maker’s breath, was he actually flushing like a maiden? His face felt hot under that devilish, green-eyed gaze and, all of a sudden, everything felt rather too familiar. Naturally, Max was clueless. He left his empty bowl on the table and he sat himself down at the foot of Dorian’s bed.

“Come on,” he grinned. “Are you telling me we were never like that?”

Dorian’s eyes widened to near apoplectic proportions. Surely he could not be actually hearing this? Had he suffered an injury? Apparently not, for Maxwell tilted his head, his smile softening.

“I might not remember what happened between us Dorian,” he muttered. “But I know myself. And I’m getting to know you. I feel fairly certain that I’d be nothing like reserved around a man of your obvious charms.”

Venhedis, there it was – the inevitable ghost of what they’d had. It might have been agonising to see had Max not been looking at him with an all too familiar sparkle in his emerald eyes. Dorian’s heart was pleading for caution but his body… Maker, his body was reacting on instinct, pulse quickening, desire beginning to prickle up his inner thighs. His eyes dropped to Max’s lips and he almost whimpered with want.

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous…” the Marcher whispered. He reached out a hand, just grazing Dorian’s jaw with the backs of his fingers. Dorian had to bite his tongue to withhold his moan. His eyelids fluttered shut and every fibre of his being was begging for Max to kiss him. He heard the bed creak, caught the delicate bouquet of Max’s masculine scent. He was almost quivering with anticipation.

Then a knock on the door shattered the reverie like it was crystal. Dorian’s eyes snapped open to see Maxwell mere inches away, though his head had swivelled to stare at the door. It took him a moment to respond in his confusion but, when the knock sounded a second time, he managed to summon the wit to answer.

“Come in!” he called out, somehow managing not to scream at the intruder. The door opened and the pretty serving girl from the bar flounced in, all smiles and precarious cleavage.

“Is there anything else I can get you, Messeres?” she asked of them, brightly. Dorian saw her eyes linger on Max and the temptation to throw a fireball at her became suddenly rather strong.

“No thanks, lovely,” Max grinned, with all of his usual charm. “We’ve got everything we need.”

The woman giggled and she breezed around collecting their empty dishes, setting a fresh carafe of wine down on the table.

“Well, if you change your mind,” she purred and she backed out of the room, casting little looks back at Max from beneath her lashes. The door closed behind her and Maxwell coughed, slipping off the bed. It appeared the moment was well and truly ruined.

“Well, if my sister and her Templar are too busy canoodling to make use of it, I’ve no qualms about hogging the other bed,” he announced, with a slightly exaggerated yawn. “You must be tired yourself.”

“Quite,” Dorian affirmed. He kicked off his boots irritably as Max went about closing the curtains. His eyes were stinging from sheer disappointment but he refused to succumb to it as he stripped down to his breeches and huddled up in bed. It was progress, he told himself, and progress that could surely be repeated. Such thoughts did little to quell the aching in his chest, however, nor the state of semi-arousal that throbbed distractingly between his thighs.


	56. On The Road

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evie is confused when Dorian requests a change of pace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my lovelies. I am so SO sorry for the delay on this chapter. Last weekend was mental and my children have been off all week so what little time I've had to myself, I've spent exhausted. Do forgive me! I'll try to be more on top of things in the future!

LI

On The Road

The weather grew steadily warmer as they headed further south. It was technically still winter in the Imperium but to Evie and her fellow southerners, the temperatures were plenty hot enough. Only Dorian complained about the seasonal chill and even then he hadn’t done so since they’d left Asariel.

Saying goodbye to Felix and Gereon had been emotional. Evie had been a weeping wreck as she thanked the Alexius patriarch for everything he’d done for her. Dorian, somehow, had kept it together, playing off his feelings with his usual sass. He’d been incredibly quiet, however, as they ventured back towards the Imperial Highway and he’d spent the next two nights pressed up incredibly tight against Evie’s back.

It was now the fifth night since they’d left Minrathous. They had stopped to make camp a little way off the road, pitching their tents in a flat, shaded clearing. Cullen was working on starting a fire whilst Dorian had wandered off to refill their water skins. Evie sat on the grass in front of the fire pit, observing Max as he checked over their supplies.

“We should be good until we reach Vol Dorma,” he muttered. “I’ll have to hunt us something again tomorrow but for now this should do.”

He sat down in front of a flat rock and began to skin the rabbits he had snared early that morning. Evie smiled, trying not to let her lack of enthusiasm show. Maybe it was the abundance of rabbit they’d been eating lately, or perhaps it was just the stress of being on the run, but her appetite had taken a turn for the worse. All the walking and riding made her tired too and, whilst she was glad they were free, her ailing only cast a pall over their victory.

It wasn’t just her either. As she’d suspected, Dorian was not adapting to life as a fugitive particularly well. Evie could hardly blame him. After everything that had happened between him and Max, to have to give up the life of luxury he was used to must have been a real kick in the teeth. It was no real wonder he was in a foul mood.

“Blighted mosquitoes!” the Altus hissed, kicking his way through the undergrowth as he returned to the clearing. “Next time, one of you can be on water duty. Every time I go near the stream, I get eaten alive!”

He tossed their water skins irritably at the entrance of one of the tents, dropping down onto to ground at Evie’s side. Evie tentatively reached out a hand for him but if he noticed, he made no move to accept the comfort.

“Ahh, don’t take it personally, Dorian,” said Max. “They just like you because you’re tasty.”

He glanced up from his work for a moment to flash the mage a playful smile. Dorian blinked in astonishment, his cheeks flushing a dusky pink even in the failing light. Max chuckled.

“Come on, grumpy,” he grinned. “I could use a sous chef. How about you give me a hand with the vegetables?”

Dorian huffed but, to Evie’s surprise, he actually agreed. “If I must,” he sighed. “It certainly beats sitting here whilst the gnats chew on my backside.” He got up and repositioned himself a little way away from Maxwell, where he pulled a bunch of wild onions out of their supply pack. “And what exactly and I meant to do with these?” he asked. Max laughed and he put down his knife to instruct him.

Evie found herself watching the exchange with a little smile on her face. Something was happening between them, as anyone with eyes could see. It was subtle - for Maxwell, at least – but the heated glances and the lingering touches were all amounting to something.

After their first day on the road, Dorian had admitted to Evie that they’d almost kissed. The redhead had been delighted but, since then, nothing much else seemed to have happened. They were flirting up a storm, spending more and more time in each other’s company. And yet, every night as they crawled into bed, Dorian would admit that nothing more had taken place. Evie couldn’t help but wonder what was holding him back?

“Alright, the fire’s going,” Cullen announced, dusting off his hands. “It’ll be about half an hour before it’s hot enough to cook on. We should have enough kindling here to last us into the night.”

“There’s more a little way past here, if we need it,” Dorian pointed out, gesturing the way he’d come. “You’re welcome to fetch it yourself. The flying leeches have had enough of my blood for one evening!”

Night had fallen in earnest by the time they were fed and watered. Evie reclined in the safety of Cullen’s arms. The rabbit stew sat heavy in her stomach, making her feel queasy. However, as long as they had food to eat, she refused to complain: Max had done his best and it wasn’t his fault that her low stamina was making her sickly. The unseasonal warmth – in her eyes at least – wasn’t helping much either.

“I think I might go and freshen up before we turn in,” she announced. “It’s balmy tonight and I feel… sticky.”

“I’ll accompany you,” Dorian volunteered almost immediately. Evie gave him a sceptical look.

“Really?” she asked. “You said earlier you weren’t going down there again.”

“That was before I found my citrus oil,” he responded smoothly, though there was something pointed in the way he was staring at her. “Besides,” he added, “not all of us can abandon our grooming regimes simply because we’re on the road.”

He glanced sideways at Max, who leaned back laughing on his elbows.

“I thought you liked the rugged look, Dorian,” he grinned and Dorian smirked.

“My dear Maxwell, there is rugged and then there is unkempt,” he pointed out. “I shall leave it to you to decide which category you fall into.”

Her brother simply snorted, running a hand through his thick, unbound hair. Dorian got to his feet, brushing down his robe with a sniff of distaste, before offering Evie a hand.

“You don’t mind do you?” he asked Cullen, as he helped her up. “I’ll be sure to bring her back in one piece.”

“Why would I mind?” Cullen laughed. “Just don’t be long. I’m ready for my bed.”

“So am I,” sighed Dorian. “Sadly there is nothing resembling a bed for miles. However…”

He offered Evie his arm with a dramatic little flourish and the redhead took it. Together, the pair of them grabbed their washbags and left the camp, heading for the stream a little way beyond.

“Alright, spill it,” Evie said, as soon as she felt sure they were out of earshot. “No way did you want to want to come with me just to stretch your legs. What’s the matter?”

“That transparent, am I?” sighed Dorian, with a self-deprecating chuckle. “I shall have to work on my mystique.”

Evie laughed. “Well considering you spent half an hour earlier complaining about your mosquito bites,” she smirked, and she elbowed him playful in the side. Dorian scowled.

“Yes, yes, alright,” he grumbled. “If you must know, I just needed a little space from your brother. He’s being-”

“Maddeningly charming?” supplied Evie.

“Ah, so you have noticed.” The pair of them paused at the bank of a shallow, slow, flowing stream. Dorian eyed the water distrustfully but Evie was too warm and uncomfortable to care what might be dwelling in it. She sank to her knees beside it, splashing her neck and face.

“I’d have to be blind not to have noticed,” she answered eventually. “What’s going on, Dorian? You say nothing’s happened but it’s like you two can’t keep away from each other.”

The Altus sighed. “I _am_ trying, amicus,” he assured her. “It’s hard to switch off what we had, especially when he’s being so damned… well, himself!”

He sat down heavily on the grassy bank beside her. Evie patted herself dry with a towel before reaching for his own washbag and pulling out his shaving kit.

“I don’t understand,” she murmured, as she began the familiar routine of soaping up his face. “What’s the problem?”

Dorian leaned back against a tree trunk, his eyes falling closed. She’d done this for him before and for Cullen countless times more; he knew to trust her with a razor.

“The problem is that I love him and he doesn’t love me,” he murmured. “And whilst he’s undoubtedly interested, I cannot be just another fuck to him, Evie, I simply can’t!”

“It’s alright,” Evie hushed him soothingly. She placed a hand on his chest, stilling him as began to drag the razor over his stubbled cheeks. “I understand. But Maker, Dorian, isn’t it hard?”

Dorian snorted. “Hard? My dear girl, it’s torture. Kaffas, my every instinct is screaming at me to fuck him into the ground!”

Evie laughed so hard she had pull the blade away for fear of cutting him. “Maker, Dorian, that’s my brother,” she groaned. “I do not need that image in my head. I already feel queasy.”

Only once her hands had stopped shaking did she trust herself to continue. Dorian smiled at her – a tired, sad gesture that made her kiss the tip of his nose just to make him chuckle.

“For what it’s worth,” she said, quietly, “it might be an idea to tell him this. “Or” she added, at his horrified expression, “at least let him know you’re interested. If he keeps flirting and you keep knocking him back, he might think you’re not. And if he thinks you’re not, his attention might turn elsewhere.”

“Venhedis, Evie, are you not meant to be making me feel better!” Dorian exclaimed.

“I just want to make things right for you,” shrugged Evie. “We both know you’ll be heartbroken if he moves on because he thinks you don’t want him.”

Dorian bit his lip, saying nothing. Evie continued her task in silence, rinsing the blade in the running water and repeating until the only hair left on Dorian’s face was his finely groomed moustache. The redhead wiped the soap off his skin with a dampened corner of her towel.

“There,” she muttered. “Perfection. Do you want to wash up? I’ll stand watch.”

The Altus pulled a face. “In the morning,” he decided. “Maker, I never thought I’d say that. I’ve practically gone feral.”

“Not quite,” laughed Evie, and she got slowly to her feet. She felt suddenly exhausted, as though she’d been running all afternoon instead of sitting on horseback. Her eyes were heavy and she anticipated curling up in her bedroll as though it were a wyvern down bed. “Alright,” she sighed, “well if you’re not going to bathe, let’s head back. I’d like to get to sleep before you start snoring.”

“Firstly, I do not snore,” began Dorian, as he too got up and began to walk alongside her. “And secondly, I was thinking perhaps you might want to share a tent with your beloved tonight,” he suggested, casually – _too_ casually. Evie gave him a sidelong glance.

“But that would leave you sharing with Max,” she said, with no small amount of suspicion. “I thought we were trying to avoid that – hence the reason my lover and I have been sleeping apart for over a week.”

Dorian shrugged. “Well, in light of recent developments, I think perhaps I should like to give it a try.”

“Dorian,” Evie admonished him, gently. “Don’t let what I said scare you. I don’t want you to do something you’re not ready to do.”

“Relax, my dear, I’m a big boy,” Dorian chortled. “And I have no plans on doing _that_ , not yet. I simply intend to test the waters.”

Frowning, Evie was about to ask what, precisely, he meant by that. However, she thought better of it. “Maker, I’m not sure I want to know,” she murmured. “Alright, well, if you’re sure. You shan’t hear me or Cullen complaining.”

“I didn’t think you would,” said Dorian, brightly. “And thank you, by the way, for being so accommodating lately. I know I’ve inconvenienced you both.”

Evie took his hand in hers and offered him her warmest smile.

“That’s what friends do,” she replied.

Cullen and Max were dousing the fire when they returned to camp. The blonde glanced up, flashing Evie a sleepy smile that made her heart flutter even after all their time together.

“Little change of plan,” Dorian announced, in a cheerful voice. “I figured you lovebirds could use a little nesting time so I’ll be sharing with Max tonight… if that’s alright with you?”

Both he and Evie glanced at the rogue. He seemed genuinely surprised for a moment before a confident smile tugged at his lips. “You won’t hear any complaints from me,” he shrugged, and Evie could all but see his mind working behind his eyes. Clearly, he was wondering what Dorian had in store. Judging from the confused frown on Cullen’s face, he was contemplating the same thing. However, he quickly plastered a smile on his face and glanced to Evie with genuine warmth in his amber eyes.

“No complaints here either,” he murmured, with a touch of heat in his voice. “Are you ready to retire now?”

Evie nodded. “I’m exhausted,” she sighed, apologetically, and she felt guilty when she saw Cullen’s smile falter just a little. However, the blonde slipped an arm around her waist, kissing her cheek.

“It’s alright, love,” he murmured in her ear. “It’s not like there’s much privacy in tents anyway.”               

Evie smiled at him gratefully and let her head fall on his shoulder. “Well, if everything’s settled, I guess I’ll turn in for the night. Unless you want me to take first watch?”

“We’ll take it together,” Maxwell offered, indicating himself and Dorian. “Get some rest and we’ll swap in a few hours.”

Evie raised a brow but she was too tired to argue – and not particularly inclined to overthink what her brother and friend might get up to under the pretence of guard duty.

“Thank you,” she murmured. “Good night, you two. Wake us when you’re tired.”

She caught Dorian’s eye as she headed for the tent and didn’t miss the hint of a smirk that had appeared beneath his moustache. Shaking her head, she crawled into the tent and all but collapsed upon her bedroll.

“Come on, my sweet,” Cullen chuckled, as he slipped in behind her. “At least get into your bedroll before you pass out.”

Evie groaned, closing her eyes. She heard Cullen laugh and then he was there, pressing himself against her back and draping his arms around her.

“Maker, it’s been too long since I’ve held you like this,” he murmured, brushing his nose up against her neck. Evie sighed, leaning back into his embrace and letting his comfortingly familiar scent wash over her.

“I know,” she whispered. “I’ve missed you, Cullen.”

“And I you, my love,” he sighed. “As much as I’m happy to help Dorian, I’ll admit I’m glad to have you to myself at last.” A kiss, feather light, behind her ear made her quiver. “What changed his mind, incidentally?” he wondered. “He’s been avoiding being alone with Max ever since we left Qarinus.”

Evie hummed drowsily. “I think he’s worried if he doesn’t show some interest, that Max will go elsewhere,” she explained, forcing the words even as sleep tugged at the edges of her consciousness. “I told him not to do anything out of panic but you know Dorian – he won’t be told.”

Cullen chuckled. “Oh I know,” he responded, and he pulled Evie ever tighter against his chest. The redhead felt something insistent and hard press against her buttocks and she stiffened in his arms.

“Cullen,” she sighed. “Sweetheart, I don’t think I can-”

“I know, love,” he breathed, and Maker, she could hear the sweet smile in his voice. “That wasn’t a hint. I can’t help how you affect me, though.”

“Tomorrow,” promised Evie, reaching back to pat his thigh. “I’ll make sure we find time.”

Cullen laughed softly and pressed another kiss to her throat. “That soon, hm?” he purred. “I thought perhaps given how you’ve been feeling, it might be… you know… that time of the month, again.”

The last few words were mumbled into her skin as he kissed her again. Evie, however, heard them well enough and her eyes snapped open as though she’d been hit with a lightning spell.

“Oh Maker…” she whispered.

Cullen nuzzled into her hair with a sleepy, pacified sound. “Hm? What is it, love?”

How long had it been? With all that had happened lately, she hadn’t given it much thought. However, now that she cast her mind back it had to have been almost two months since she’d last bled.

Suddenly, her exhaustion - her _queasiness_ – seemed considerably more ominous. Tears sprang into her eyes and she had to stuff the heel of her hand into her mouth to prevent from crying out.

“Evie?” Cullen asked again, and there was an edge of concern in his voice this time. “What’s wrong?”

Slowly the redhead turned in his arms and she regarded him through wet, wide eyes. Her lover stared, perplexed, and raised a hand to her face.

“Love,” he murmured, caressing her cheek. “You’re crying. Maker, what’s wrong?”

Evie took a great gulp of air. The words came bubbling up inside of her like vomit and they spilled from her lips before she could stop them.

“Cullen, I think I’m pregnant.”


	57. The Long Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen digests some shocking news and comes to some realisations about the future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! Again, sorry for the delay in this chapter! I've been struggling with this one but I've finally got it out! I hope it was worth the wait. :) Thank you all so much for your patience.

LII

The Long Game

 

 

Evie was staring at Cullen, her eyes wide and wet, lips moving around words. Cullen, however, could hear none of it over the rush of blood in his ears.

_She was with child._

It should have been happy news, joyous even, but all he could feel was the heat of bitter envy as it boiled up within him.  The woman he loved was pregnant – with another man’s child.

He had known this day was going to come for a while. He’d spent countless moments imagining how he’d feel when it finally happened. Expectation, he’d hoped, might have dulled the pain. But it seemed he’d been wrong.

“Are you certain?”

His voice came out little more than a rasp. He stared at Evie, half-hoping she might suddenly laugh and tell him she was only joking. And yet he knew she wouldn’t. There was uncertainty in her eyes, along with a hint of fear. She bit her lip and nodded slowly.

“I haven’t bled in well over six weeks,” she whispered. “Cullen, I’m tired, I feel queasy, my breasts hurt… what else can it be?”

Cullen swallowed hard, exhaling a long breath out of his nose. The tent felt suddenly too small, too hot; he needed to move.

Without so much as a word, he made a dive for the flap and ducked out into the clearing beyond.

“Cullen!” Evie called out in protest.

“I need some air,” managed Cullen. Maker, his head was reeling. His knees felt weak and wobbly as he stumbled to his feet and he almost careered into a rather unpleasant looking bush on straightening up.

“Cullen?”

The blonde glanced up to see Maxwell and Dorian sitting by the smouldering fire pit. They were oddly close – closer than they’d been in a long while at least – and, had he been in his right mind, Cullen might have questioned the way they sprang apart at his sudden appearance. Of course, he was hardly rational. Indeed, the moment his amber eyes fell upon Dorian, the jealousy and bitterness bubbled up within him like bile.

“Cullen?” Dorian frowned. “Are you alright?”

Cullen bit his lip. A dozen angry retorts were welling up in his throat but he held them at bay. This was not Dorian’s fault. This wasn’t anyone’s fault except their horrible parents’. As much as he wanted to snarl at the Altus, he wouldn’t; Dorian didn’t deserve that. But he couldn’t bear to look at him right then either. So he simply shook his head and made a hasty bee-line for the edge of the clearing.

“Cullen Stanton Rutherford!”

The former Templar stopped dead in his tracks at the anger in his lover’s voice. Slowly, he turned on the spot and found himself facing a furious looking Evie, who was standing, glowering, just outside the entrance to their tent.

“Are you seriously doing this?” she snapped and, Maker’s breath, her voice actually cracked a bit. Cullen felt like a monster but he desperately needed a moment to come to terms with the rather shocking news. He didn’t want to upset her further with what was running through his mind.

“Evie please,” he implored her. “I love you, I do, and I always will, but I need to clear my head. We can talk about this later.”

He closed his eyes against the sight of her, angry tears in her eyes, and took a couple of tentative steps into the trees. However, she called out to him again.

“It’s yours, you idiot!”

He stumbled at that, whirling around in haste. His heart seemed to skip several beats and he felt as though a bucket of ice water had been dumped on his head.

“What?” he croaked.

His gaze flickered to Dorian and Max, who were both on their feet and watching the exchange with unrestrained bafflement. Glancing back to Evie, he saw her wiping her eyes. Her brows were still creased in a frown but there was a tentative ghost of a smile trying to pull at her lips. Cullen’s heart fluttered with hope.

“We didn’t do the procedure last month, remember?” she murmured. “We didn’t have time, once we realised what was going on with Max. Cullen, it has to be yours.”

Cullen blinked. In an instant, his anger and his jealousy melted away. Something warm and bright took up residence in their place, burning inside his chest.

“You’re pregnant?” he whispered. “With my child?”

Off to the side, he heard Dorian and Maxwell explode in unison but he paid them no attention. He couldn’t stop staring at the smile that was blossoming on Evie’s face, at the light that shimmered behind a sheen of tears in her eyes. She merely nodded once by way of a reply and, for the second time that night, Cullen felt as though someone had pulled the ground out from beneath his feet. She was carrying his child. He’d never hoped… never dared to dream that it might one day happen for them. It would have meant doom for them both at the Circle so they’d been so careful. Maker, he thought they’d been careful in Minrathous too but obviously not.

“Evie,” he breathed, and the grin that curled his lips was irrepressible. He covered the space between them in several long strides and pulled the woman he loved into his arms. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered. “I thought…”

“I know what you thought,” Evie chuckled, nuzzling into his neck. “And I’m telling you, you’re wrong. This is your baby, my love. _Our_ baby.”

Cullen felt tears of happiness prickling at his eyes. He wanted to pick her up, spin her around until she laughed with as much delight as he felt in that moment. But he was conscious of her fragile condition and he settled for kissing the top of her head.

“Will one of you please tell us what’s going on?” Max demanded. This time, Cullen turned to face the two men. Maxwell looked completely perplexed but Dorian… Dorian was staring at them both, his hands clenched at his chest.

“Did I hear that correctly?” he asked, in little more than a whisper. “Evie… are you…?”

Max continued to stare, confused, between the three of them. Evie, however, turned to her fellow mage and she nodded.

“The timing is pretty terrible, I know,” she muttered. “But yes, it would appear that I’m pregnant.”

“Seriously?!” cried Max, though he was largely ignored.

“And it’s not… it isn’t…”

“It’s not yours, Dorian,” Evie assured him, gently. “There’s no way it can be. The last time we tried was before my last bleed.”

Dorian let out a bubbling laugh of relief and he sank down onto the nearest flat surface – which happened to be a tree stump.

“Fasta vass!” he chuckled. “You had me rather worried there for a moment!” He took out a handkerchief from somewhere within the many fold of his robes and dabbed delicately at his forehead. Then, glancing up with a curious tilt of his head, he added, “You’re certain?”

Evie shrugged. “I’m no healer,” she admitted. “But I’m fairly sure.”

The Altus beamed then, showing all of his perfect, white teeth. “Well, it seems we have something to celebrate at last!” he declared. “Congratulations, my dear! I’d hug you but I’m afraid I’ve had rather a shock.”

Cullen chuckled and he looked to Max, who was outwardly goggling at his sister.

“Evie,” he murmured. “Are you serious? You’re with child?”

Smiling, Evie reached out towards her sibling. The man dived for her, pulling her into a fierce embrace that made her squeak in surprise.

“Careful!” cried Cullen and Dorian in unison. Maxwell put her down at once, muttering apologies and wiping hastily at his eyes. Evie, however, merely laughed.

“Relax you two!” she grinned. “He’s not going to break me with a hug. Maker, is this what I’m going to be in for for the next nine months?”

“I can’t believe I’m going to be an uncle,” Max murmured. He glanced up sharply then, his brow crumpling in a frown. “Are you going to be alright to travel? Maybe we should try and find somewhere safe in the Imperium… at least for now.”

Both Cullen and Dorian turned to stare, horrified, at the rogue. Thankfully, Evie shook her head. “I’ll be fine Max,” she assured him. “In fact, this news only makes me more determined to get as far away from all of this as possible. I don’t want to bring a child into this.”

“I quite agree,” Dorian assented. “I do think, however, we should consult a healer as soon as we can. They will be able to tell for sure and offer you some advice.”

“We can be in Vol Dorma tomorrow,” the blonde pointed out. “We can find someone there, surely?”

Dorian nodded. “I’m certain of it.”

 

*

 

Cullen awoke early the next morning. He’d barely been able to sleep for all the thoughts whizzing around in his head. He was going to be a father. It was incredible. Never had he even dared to hope… dream, perhaps, but never hope. And now? Maker, he could scarcely believe it.

The first rays of dawn light were just starting to filter through the canvas. Cullen blinked and yawned, stretching his arms above his head until his shoulders popped. He could feel Evie’s warmth curled up against his chest and he smiled. His lips feathered against her forehead, kissing her gently.

“Morning, love,” he whispered. “How are you feeling?”

Evie simply groaned in response and attempted to bury herself further into his chest.

“It’s far too early for you to sound so cheerful,” she grumbled, and Cullen could only laugh.

“Can you blame me?” he chuckled, as he ran his fingers through her auburn tresses. “I have everything I’ve ever wanted. Well, almost,” he added, with a little shrug. The cosy house with the window boxes was a work in progress, something they could work towards as they headed further South. Oh, and a dog. His happy home would never be complete without a dog.

Sighing, Evie lifted her head to glance up at him, her eyes still heavy with sleep.

“I’m glad you’re happy, Cullen, truly I am,” she began. “But aren’t you scared? Aside from in the Circle, I can’t think of a worse time for this to have happened.”

Cullen cupped her cheek in a tender caress. “Of course I’m scared,” he murmured. “This is new and, yes, not ideal. But we’ve made it through so much.  We can make this work, Evie.”

The redhead offered him a tired smile and she leaned up to plant a kiss on his cheek. “Do you really think so?” she asked.

“I know so,” Cullen promised. “I won’t let anything happen to you – either of you.”

Evie beamed and pressed herself up against him, kissing him long and slow until his blood began to stir. The blonde pulled away with a sigh, ignoring the way his cock was hardening in his soft, linen breeches.

“Come on,” he said, takin Evie’s hand. “We need to get you a decent meal before we set off. You’ve not been eating enough.”

Evie groaned. “There’s a reason for that, my love,” she sighed. “Everything makes me feel sick.”

“I know,” replied Cullen, and he gave her his very best sympathetic smile. “But you need to have something. You’re eating for two now, remember?”

The redhead merely sighed again, though she did sit up in her bedroll, reaching for the clothing she’d discarded the night before.

“Fine,” she groused. “But if I throw up, I’m aiming your way.”

Cullen smirked. “You can try, my sweet.”

Thankfully, there was no vomiting over breakfast, in Cullen’s direction or otherwise. Cullen fixed a pot of porridge before the others even so much as stirred. He gave Evie a small bowl with a little honey and a few of the fresh blackberries they’d found growing by the roadside. She managed to finish it, though she looked a little green as she went to wash her bowl.

Dorian and Max emerged from their tent not too long afterwards. In the light of a new day, Cullen had wit to spare to scrutinise their behaviour. Whilst they were hardly holding hands, he didn’t miss the looks that passed between them or the little smiles as they each glanced away, smirking into their breakfast. There was something palpable there and Cullen found himself grinning too whenever their backs were turned.

They set off immediately after everyone had eaten, arriving in Vol Dorma for a little after midday. It was a large city – not as vast and impressive as Minrathous but certainly bigger by far than Qarinus. They left their mounts at a stable a short way outside the walls and joined a throng of travellers filtering through the city gates, blending seamlessly into the crowds.

“Alright,” Cullen muttered, standing warily in front of Evie to prevent her being jostled. “Let’s not stay here any longer than necessary – and by that I mean no cavorting in the local taverns,” he said, directing a very pointed stare at Maxwell, who simply grinned.

“I don’t know what you’re insinuating, Cully,” he replied innocently. “Besides, I think after all this time roughing it, it’ll be Dorian hankering for a slice of civilisation, not me.”

“Please, don’t remind me,” the Altus sighed. “Are we in agreement that it would be more expedient for us to split up? Maxwell and I can head to the markets and procure the goods we need. You and our dear Evelyn can go and find yourselves a healer.”

“And what, we meet up later?” asked Evie. She was looking heavy-eyed again and Cullen knew she would have happily curled up to sleep.

“There was a rather quaint looking tavern by the gate as we came in, did you notice?” Dorian asked. “’The Falcon’s Nest’? We can reconvene there at sundown. Perhaps take up beds for the night, if they’ve space. Maker knows my back could benefit from something other than solid earth.”

“You and me both, amicus,” Evie smiled.

They agreed that splitting up would be the best way to get everything done – no one wanted to linger in a large city like Vol Dorma for longer than necessary. Maxwell and Dorian set off together in one direction, whilst Evie and Cullen took a carriage in the other. The blonde had simply asked their driver to take them ‘somewhere we’d find a good healer’, assuring him they had plenty of coin, before he’d settled in the seat next to his love.

“Are you alright?” he asked her softly, pressing a feather-light kiss to her brow.

“Just tired,” she smiled. “I’m not sure why – the horses did most of the work.”

“I’m sure it’s normal,” Cullen assured her. “We’ll find out soon enough.”

The driver took them to a handsome storefront in an affluent part of the city. There were medicinal herbs growing in gilded pots outside the door and a heavy, painted sign hung above the window.

“One of the best in the city,” he promised them, as Cullen handed over a couple of silvers.

“Certainly looks expensive,” the former Templar replied.

Inside, they were greeted by a striking man in robes of darkest green – almost black, to Cullen’s eyes. He was tall and silver-haired, though his face was unlined, and he smiled as the couple approached.

“Greetings,” he said in Common, eyeing their travelling clothes shrewdly. “I am Matteus, second to Master Velius. How can I help you this afternoon?”

Cullen glanced at Evie on his arm and she smiled, nodding in encouragement.

“We believe my wife is with child,” lied Cullen, smoothly. “We were hoping you might be able to confirm for us?”

Matteus beamed. “Of course, messere,” he said, with a polite bow. “Master Velius is busy with a client at the moment but I am more than qualified to assist you in this matter, if that’s to your liking?”

“That’s fine,” Cullen agreed and they followed the healer as he led them into a small, private antechamber. It was warm, furnished like a home rather than a business, and they sat down in comfortable chairs around the fireplace rather than in front of a desk.

“So, my Lady,” Matteus began

“Marilyn, please,” smiled Evie.

“Marilyn,” the healer amended. “How long has it been since your last bleed?”

“I can’t be certain,” Evie sighed. “But it’s approximately seven weeks, I believe.”

Matteus smiled kindly. “So this is probably early days then. Excellent. And how do you feel?”

“Tired,” Evie admitted. “Unjustly so. And I’m nauseous pretty much all the time.”

The healer hummed and he got to his feet. “Any breast tenderness?” he asked, as he made his way to where Evie was sitting. The redhead flushed but she nodded. “Another common early sign,” he affirmed. “My Lady, might I have your permission to examine you? It will be for but a moment.”

Evie assented, rising from her seat. Cullen watched with intrigue as Matteus summoned a glowing orange light to his palms and gently touched one to Evie’s abdomen. He held it there for a moment, frowning in concentration, before a smile broke out over his face.

“Congratulations, Marilyn,” he proclaimed. “You are indeed pregnant.”

Cullen beamed, his heart soaring in his chest. Evie, however, promptly burst into tears.

“Love!” Cullen gasped, and he jumped to his feet in alarm. “What’s wrong? I thought you were happy!”

He pulled Evie into his arms, where she proceeded to sniffle against his shoulder.

“I am happy,” she whimpered. “I don’t know why I’m crying!”

Matteus gave an indulgent chuckle and handed Cullen a handkerchief.

“Not to worry,” he said, soothingly, resuming his seat. “It’s quite normal to be emotional in your condition. There’s nothing to be embarrassed about. Now, I advise you start taking smaller, more frequent meals to help with the nausea. Avoid any excessive or heavy labour - absolutely no draining your mana, if possible. It will make you quite unwell.”

Evie nodded, extricating herself from Cullen’s embrace and dabbing at her eyes.

“Of course, Messere,” she sniffed. “And what of travel? My husband and I are not native to these lands, as I’m sure you’re aware. We were on our way home when we began to suspect.”

Matteus frowned. “It’s not ideal,” he said, uneasily, “but you should be alright, providing your pregnancy progresses healthily. If you find yourself ailing, you may have to make a stop. Where is it you call home?”

“Ferelden,” Cullen responded, and he could at least say he was honest there. “It’s a long way, I know…”

“Indeed,” said the healer, his tone grave. “And given all that’s going on there, perhaps not the safest place to return to.”

Evie glanced warily at Cullen. “You mean the rebellions…?” she asked.

“The rebellions, yes,” nodded Matteus, with a meaningful look in Evie’s direction. “I hear the false Divine has called a meeting – The Conclave, they are calling it – to try and resolve the conflict, though I don’t imagine it will be successful. The Southern mages have been leashed too long.” The Healer gave them a long and appraising look. “Forgive me if I’m overstepping my bounds, but you may find it safer to remain here in the Imperium. Especially if your child is also a mage.”

“I’m afraid that’s not an option,” Evie replied, with a sad smile. “We simply have to go back.”

“I understand. Then I advise caution. Take the journey slowly and, if you are on horseback, ride no faster than a trot. You may cause yourself trauma. Minimise your alcohol intake – there is suspicion it may cause deformities – and avoid lyrium potions. They can have horrible effects on your unborn child if taken often.”

Cullen and Evie listened as the healer ran through a whole list of provisos. The blonde rather wished he’d brought a quill and some parchment but Matteus assured them that it would be advice they’d hear regularly over the coming months. He also gave them a few recipes for common remedies and advised them to see a healer every month or so. 

They paid him a rather hefty sum of coin and left arm in arm, strolling down the road.

“Well, that was rather an overload of information,” Cullen sighed. “I had no idea riding was ill-advised. My brother’s wife rode well into her pregnancies.”

“Most of it is merely precaution,” Evie smiled. “Or old wives tales. I most certainly will not be drinking embrium tea to promote ‘wisdom’,” she scoffed. “The stuff is vile.”

Cullen’s lips pulled in a smile but it faded as quickly as it had appeared.

“This leaves us with a dilemma of course,” he murmured. “I mean, where are we going to go from here? We can’t really go to Orlais, it’s rife with civil war. And the Free Marches would be foolish considering your father’s connections there. Yet I don’t want to take you right in to Ferelden’s conflict either! Perhaps we are better off staying in the North. Nevarra is not so bad, I hear.”

Evie looked at him flatly. “I don’t want to stay in the North, Cullen, and neither do you.”

“But the rebellion-” he began. The redhead, however, hushed him.

“We need not put ourselves in harm’s way, my love,” she smiled. “But if there is a better future to be had for mages, I want to be a part of it. I want it for Dorian and I want it for our baby. How can we not go?”

Cullen sighed. Truly, he was loathe to lead his love and his unborn child into such a conflict torn climate. However, he knew she was right. The Conclave could be the start of something new for Thedas’ mages and Templars. They had a duty to help shape the world in a way that would befit generations to come, as well as their own children.

“Alright,” he agreed. “Ferelden it is. Maker, Dorian is not going to be too pleased about this…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Credit to Leon Battista Alberti's "I libri della famiglia" (Book 2) for what very little information I could source on historical pregnancies. I'll admit, I'm making a lot of it up on the premise that the Tevinters are somewhat more advanced than the rest of Thedas. Still, it's likely that they wouldn't know anywhere near as much about the process of pregnancy as we do today.


	58. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Max reflects as the four prepare for the journey to Ferelden.

Epilogue

 

 

Maxwell stood at the window of their rented room, eyes cast out at the view of the bustling Cumberland dockside below. It had been a noisy night on the waterfront but it was worth it. The runners from the docks had only a few hundred paces to travel to get to their door. This way, there was little chance they would be left behind by an impatient captain – a high probability, considering the temperament of the man they’d hired.

A knock at the door snagged his attention and he glanced away from the view.  

“Come in!” he called out and he beamed as his sister slipped through the doorway, the redhead looking around cautiously.

“Where’s Dorian?” she asked, her tone wary.

“He’s taking a bath, don’t worry,” Max chuckled. “Said he’s going to make the most of civilisation whilst it lasts. I _did_ tell him they have baths in Ferelden too but I’m not sure he believed me.”

Evie laughed and she joined Maxwell at the window, leaning her head on his shoulder. Max wrapped a protective arm around her waist, fingers splaying on her belly. It was still as trim as ever but he supposed it had only been a few weeks since they’d left Tevinter. Soon enough, her body would begin to change and there’d be little doubt to anyone who saw her that she was with child.

“How are you feeling this morning?” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “You were quite sick yesterday.”

“It was my own fault,” shrugged Evie. “I should have eaten something sooner instead of putting it off until dinner. I won’t make the same mistake again.”

Max grinned and he gave his sister an affectionate squeeze.

“Don’t worry,” he winked. “We’ll be on that ship by midday. Then it’ll be Dorian’s turn to throw up for a bit.”

A bubble of laughter escaped the girl, though she quickly stifled it, shoving Max playfully in the chest.

“Don’t be cruel,” she chuckled. “Poor Dorian. He really has very little in the way of sea legs.”

Maxwell grinned. To say Dorian wasn’t much of a sailor was something of an understatement. His seasickness was severe. Thankfully, the journey from Cumberland to Jader wasn’t a particularly long one and they could continue to Ferelden on foot from thereon out. Of course, Dorian would likely find something _new_ to complain about but that was to be expected. It was part of his charm.

“So, I can’t help but notice the unmade bed,” Evie commented, drawing Maxwell from his thoughts. He glanced instinctively back into the room, at the twin bed that had spent the night untouched, and he grinned. Evie laughed. “So it’s true. You two are sleeping together again.”

“Just sleeping,” the rogue pointed out. “We’ve agreed to take it slow, remember?”

Over the last few weeks, something had been happening between him and Dorian. It had started with a kiss, a hasty, ill-considered response to the bubbling tension between them. After that kiss – and the intimate cinch that had followed – they’d agreed to take things slowly, to see how things would unfold. It wasn’t easy. Their chemistry often took them off guard and they’d been forced to come up with creative ways to not break their promise. Max could no longer deny that he was feeling the stirrings of something other than attraction to Dorian. The man was witty, intelligent, brave, charming… resisting him was like swimming against the tide.

“Look at you!” Evie grinned. “You’re smitten, aren’t you? How badly to you want to go against your word right now?”

Max groaned. “Maker, I’d give all the gold in Orzammar,” he admitted, shaking his head. “But I won’t. Not until he’s ready.”

His sister laughed. “Well, look at you being a gentleman! I’m proud of you brother.”

“Andraste’s tits, you sound like him!” scowled Max. “Why does everyone seem to think that’s beyond me?”

“I’m only teasing you, Maxi,” Evie responded, with another gentle jab. “I actually think you’re more honourable than people give you credit for.”

“Oh gee, thanks,” the rogue muttered. Turning away from the window at last, he led his sister towards the table by the fireplace. Cumberland’s winter was much chiller than the balmy nights they’d experienced in the Imperium, so they were grateful for the flames dancing in the grate. Max threw another log on the fire before sitting down opposite Evie.

“So, where’s your beloved this morning?” he asked.

“Cleaning up,” Evie smirked in reply and she laughed at Max’s expression of discomfort.

“Really?” he muttered. “I thought with you being… you know…”

The redhead scoffed, putting on an air of offence.  

“I’ll have you know that being pregnant does not stop a woman from enjoying her man’s attentions,” she sniffed. “From what I hear, some men really enjoy it.”

Maxwell groaned weakly. “Eurgh, Evie, please,” he implored her. “Some things a brother does not need to know about his baby sister and her love life.”

“Perhaps _you_ don’t but I for one am always eager for a little scandalous gossip.”

The door to the bedroom opened again and Dorian sauntered in, fully dressed and preened to perfection. He gave Max a jaunty wink, tossing his pack onto the bed and then moving to join them.

“Morning, amicus,” he beamed, pressing an affectionate kiss to Evie’s brow. “I trust you’re feeling better today?”

“Better enough to be bouncing around on top of Cullen,” muttered Max and he yelped when Evie kicked him roughly under the table.

“I’m fine,” she smiled sweetly at Dorian, who had the grace to hide his laughter behind his ringed fingers. “Thank you for asking. And might I say you look particularly well-rested this morning.”

Evie smile widened smugly but Dorian simply chuckled, sinking into a chair beside her without a hint of embarrassment.

“Your brother does make an exceptionally comfortable pillow,” he grinned. “Tea, my dear?”

Swathing his hand in a frost spell, the mage plucked the kettle off the fire and set about making a fresh pot of tea. Max cleared away the remnants of their breakfast, bringing a clean pair of cups over from the dresser and setting one down in front of his sister.

“Thank you,” she murmured. “So Dorian, ready to set sail?”

The Altus sighed, rolling his eyes when she giggled.

“Oh yes, it should be a delight!” was his sarcastic response as he poured her her tea. “I’m not sure what I’m anticipating more – the country full of your barbarian brethren or the two days of vomiting and dizziness it will require for us to get there.”

“Ferelden’s not so bad, you know,” Evie said, fairly.

“I know,” smiled Dorian. “It certainly beats back home, where murder and blood magic are an acceptable response to disliking your son’s lover.”

“Jealousy,” Max winked. “She just wanted me for herself.”

Dorian snorted. “Worryingly, there’s every chance you could be right there,” he admitted. “No matter, though. We’ll be out of her reach before long. Has there been any word from our charming captain whilst I’ve been busy?”

“Not yet,” said Max. “Though I can’t imagine it will be long.”

He heard footsteps outside the door then and he frowned over at it. However, it was only Cullen, who beamed at them all as he slipped into the room.

“You’re all looking cheerful,” he declared.

“I could say the same of you,” grinned Maxwell. “But maybe that’s something to do with what you’ve been up to this morning…”

He bounced his eyebrows at the blonde. Predictably, Cullen blushed but he didn’t stutter and back-track like he had done months before. He simply sank into the chair next to Evie, throwing an arm around her shoulders and grinning defiantly at the rogue.

“Well, someone has to keep her satisfied,” he shrugged, with an air of nonchalance. Max almost choked on his tea, which only prompted them all to laugh like hyenas.

“Oh look, he’s learning!” Dorian exclaimed, delightedly. “Bravo, Commander!”

Maxwell made a good show of glaring though it was only for effect. All squeamishness aside, he was glad that his sister was happy with such a capable, faithful man. It seemed only right that something good should come from her confinement in the Circle.

They continued to chatter over their tea for a little while longer. The last few dregs in their cups were going cold by the time their door was knocked upon again. This time it _was_ the runner from the docks and their conversation was hastily abandoned as they prepared to get on their way.

“We’ll go and fetch our things and settle up at the bar,” Cullen declared, helping Evie to her feet. “Shall we meet you downstairs in a few minutes?”

Maxwell nodded and the two of them – and the messenger – hurried out of the room. Max then turned to Dorian, offering the handsome mage a smile.

“Are you ready?” he murmured, as Dorian busied himself adjusting his pack.

The Altus sighed through his nose, heaving the bag onto his shoulder.

“As ready as I’ll ever be I suppose,” he responded. “I wish I knew precisely why this leg of the journey feels more symbolic but…” He trailed off, shoulders lifting in a shrug. “Perhaps it’s because the end is closer?”

Max gave him his kindest smile in lieu of an answer he couldn’t provide. He took Dorian gently by the hands and pulled him in close to press a delicate kiss to his lips.

“You’ve made the right choice,” he assured him, and he rested his forehead against the other man’s. “ _We’ve_ made the right choice. This is the way forward – for all of us.”

He squeezed Dorian’s hands and the mage gave a reluctant chuckle.

“I suppose only time will tell,” he sighed. His gaze flickered to the door and he sucked in a deep, steadying breath. “Well, I suppose we’d better dash. I have a delightful day or two of sickness ahead and I certainly wouldn’t want us to be late!”

Grinning, Max nodded, gesturing for Dorian to go first. The Altus made to pull his hand away, as he so often did before they stepped out in public. This time, however, Maxwell held on tight.

“Together,” he stated, when Dorian looked back in surprise. “We do this _together_.”

A slow but genuine smile spread across the other man’s face, lighting up his grey eyes and making Max’s heart flutter just a little faster in his chest.

“Together,” he agreed, and they headed for the door hand-in-hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *SCREAMS*
> 
> I literally don't know how I feel right now. This fic is the longest thing I have ever written!! And whilst it's technically not done, it seemed right to end the first installment of the journey here. You'll see why soon enough (if you haven't guessed already). I've a couple of little projects to do before I can start work on the sequel but here's to hoping it shouldn't be too long. 
> 
> I just want to take a moment to thank each and every single one of you who've come back for more of this rambling tale! It boggles my mind. I started this knowing that AUs aren't all that popular and never really expected people to read it. I have been both surprised and touched by the responses I've gotten. You are all amazing! <3
> 
> Also, if anyone wants to read the aforementioned kiss between Max and Dorian, it is in two parts and it begins here. http://dreadwolftakemenow.tumblr.com/post/140934229334/pt-12 I haven't finished the second part yet but I'll come back and link it once I have!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [A Myriad Of Broken Things](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5695114) by [therutherfordwife](https://archiveofourown.org/users/therutherfordwife/pseuds/therutherfordwife)




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